Out of Shadow
by Sophiax
Summary: In the postapocalyptic world of the 22nd Century, Voldemort rules all. The Resistance sends the Weasley family’s last descendant back in time to the year 1943 to kill the boy Lord Voldemort once was: Tom Riddle. TROC
1. Polaris

**Summary:** In the post-apocalyptic world of the 22nd Century, Voldemort rules all. The Resistance sends the Weasley family's last descendant back in time to the year 1943 to kill the boy Lord Voldemort once was: Tom Riddle.

**Author Notes:** This is the new, revamped version of 'Out of Shadow.' There were some things that were driving me crazy about the original, so I finally stopped being lazy and changed them to my whim… the core is the same, of course, so enjoy! I've edited this first chapter and will be doing the others as I go.

This story results from my musings on Riddle/Voldemort's character, and what kind of girl he might actually have gone for…This first chapter is a lot of back story, how Honora's world has come to be, so bear with me. Also, I know the general feeling about OCs…I don't usually like them either. However, I have done my utmost to make interesting, multidimensional characters. Despite all appearances of this first chapter, she's not an MS… I promise.

Reviews are very welcome! Thanks!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

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**Chapter 1**

**Polaris**

The guard shivered and pulled his furs closer to his throat. 'Typical,' he muttered. The icy wind stole the word from his mouth and flung it into the steel-grey sea.

There were three unfortunate souls who had guard duty that night. All were under the age of twenty-five; one was a woman and two were men. They walked along black volcanic rock that was sharp beneath the soles of their shoes. A biting chill penetrated the Warming Charms that protected them. The island they patrolled was no more than a kilometre across, a tiny blister of a place, totally unremarkable. There were no structures on the surface. This tiny volcanic island that peeked its stony head above the icy waters of the North Atlantic was made Unplottable by various wards and charms, a security measure necessary for survival.

Above the hooded heads, deep black clouds skittered fast across the twilight sky. They were backlit with green. In other, more innocent times, it might have been called the aurora, that fabulous light display found in the far northern latitudes. However, the guards of the island of Polaris knew better. There was no such whimsical explanation for the poisonous magical residue that seeped all over the atmosphere these days.

'When does our shift end?' one of the men called out.

'Not for another seven hours,' came the reply. 'Hold your hippogriffs.'

A snort of laughter. 'Those are extinct. Everybody knows that.'

'It's just an expression.' Another wind kicked up off the ocean, sending spray over their heads, making conversation impossible.

Below their feet, through many metres of thick, heavy rock, another scene took place. It was a great hall, filled with fifty or so people, and golden with light and warmth. The people within the island felt as safe as they could, knowing that their home was guarded. There was laughter and talking and anticipation. It was a coming-of-age celebration for one of their own, a girl who sat for the first time at the head table, a girl who thought herself quite important on that day. She had red hair.

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By the year 2112, all was ice. The world, changed forever by evil, lost its motivation to grow and live. Like a half-life, like a planet sucking the cursed blood of a slain unicorn, the diminished population wept but their tears froze before hitting the ground.

There was but one who remembered the world otherwise. Their ruler, their master, their Dark Lord who stalked his halls immortal, forever white and terrible. He dispensed a mockery of justice as a self-fashioned god and made no pretences at mercy.

But beneath this world of hurt, a few outposts of light remained. Hope was not lost.

The Resistance was scattered and small, hiding in the tiny places. On islands, high in the mountains, in the middle of vast cold desert wastes they clung together, as they clung to the old ways, to the light. They called themselves the Shadow Kingdoms. Golden as the windows of a farmhouse on a dark night but winking out at the attention of the formidable Dark armies that hunted them, within such caves and grottoes there could still be found a laugh and a song. Each outpost was ruled over by the best witch or wizard, contacting the others only once a year; any more travel or communication than that was considered too risky.

The Shadow Kingdoms were the hidden fighters who would not give in to the Dark Lord Voldemort. Immortal as he was, they retained hope that someday there would arise one who might defeat him. Since the Last War of the early twenty-first century, that hope grew fainter by the day.

In the northern island enclave known as Polaris, a girl grew up by the name of Honora Crowley; all her life she was surrounded by darkness and fear. Honora had been raised by her maternal grandmother, Eleanor Weasley-Demetrius. Her own parents had disappeared when she was only three years old, lost on a mission to one of the Kingdoms hidden away up in the European Alps. Honora did not remember her parents well. She had never discovered what had happened to them, but since they disappeared in a mountainous region she always suspected giants were involved.

It was a bitter cold day in February when Honora Crowley turned seventeen. Of course, Polaris was always bitter cold. The winter when Honora came of age was by far the coldest she could remember, however. The world's climate was changing, a result of the vast and powerful Dark magic that held it in a death grip.

Honora's seventeenth year was the year that would change her life.

'Happy birthday, young one!' said Julius Talbot, the First Wizard, ruler of Polaris, just before Honora's birthday toast.

'Seventeen isn't so young,' Honora protested. 'I'm of age now! Freya turned seventeen last year and she's already doing guard duty,' she gestured to her best friend, a blonde-haired and blue-eyed witch named Freya Lief.

'And so she is,' the First agreed, his aged eyes lighting up with mirth. 'Honora, I take it you are eager to begin guard duties yourself, then?'

Honora gulped. The truth was she was dreading it. Guard duties meant dressing head-to-toe in fur, braving the wind and ice, the cold so bone-chilling that even strong warming charms meant little against it. 'Uh, yes sir?' she said, confidently she hoped.

Julius laughed. 'I'm glad! Without such enthusiasm from the new generations, I'm sure Polaris would have succumbed to the Death Eaters years ago.' He took a sip of his mead. '_Sonorus_,' he brandished his wand. 'Ladies and gentlemen!' his amplified voice began, echoing through the large stone-hewn common hall. 'Witches and wizards of esteem! Today Honora comes of age.' He gestured down at white-clad Honora, her dark auburn hair pulled into a crown around her head.

'We give thanks and celebration for a new citizen of the Shadow Kingdoms, a very special young lady, and the last remaining member of the fabled Weasley line.'

Applause broke out in the hall. Honora smiled at her grandmother, and all her friends. Polaris was her home and she knew everyone in it as well as she knew her own self. Besides, it was always fun to be the centre of attention. Her glance paused on Marlow Woden, another of her friends. Honora's glacial blue eyes met Marlow's dark brown ones with a crinkle of a smile.

With the toast over, Honora raised her glass of wine and stood up. 'Thank you, everyone!' she said brightly, tipping her glass back as she sipped and then flashed a brilliant smile on the company. More applause ensued as everyone began their feast. The twelve house-elves of Polaris had really made an effort with the food. Honora sat back down next to her grandmother.

'How do you feel?' Eleanor asked, her thin mouth curled up in a smile.

'Hmm.' Honora thought for a moment. 'No different, really. Should I?'

'No, I remember I did not feel differently when I came of age. At least not right away…' Eleanor Weasley's papery cheeks grew pink as she seemed to recollect something. 'That was the year I met your grandfather, Adam Demetrius.'

'Oh! That's right!' Honora swallowed her bite of scrumptious roasted duck. 'Tell me the story again, Grandmother?'

Eleanor smiled again. 'Well, you know how it was in those days. The Death Eaters were hunting us ferociously, everything was tense and dangerous…even more so than right now. We are lucky to be in a lull at the moment.'

'And? What about Grandfather?' Honora prompted, digging into her rosemary potatoes.

'He was an Auror. I was in training to be a Healer. And eat more slowly, dear, your exuberance is worrying me. You might choke.'

'Sorry,' Honora told herself to chew more slowly. 'Come on, Grandmother, tell me!'

Eleanor laughed. 'Well, a long time ago, Aurors were Dark Wizard hunters,' she said. 'By the time I was born in 2028, they were the only line of defence for the Shadow Kingdoms, like they are today. The warrior-heroes. And Adam was the best of them. He was so handsome, and so glamorous. I was taken with him immediately.'

'How did you meet?' Honora sing-songed, even though she already knew the story by heart.

Eleanor smiled indulgently. 'We had a grindylow infestation, down in the water caverns. The lesser demons were already working for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, then. One of our workers had been attacked, and I went down into the caverns to attend to him. The First Wizard at that time, Malcolm Thomas, asked for several Aurors to come in and exterminate the grindylows…and Adam was one of the Aurors. I met him in the caverns, when I was soaking wet and scared and just trying to remember my healing spells…He told me later that he fell in love with me the minute he saw me, even though I must have looked a fright!' Eleanor laughed. 'Yes, Adam Demetrius was the man for me, from the very beginning.'

Honora sighed. 'It's so wonderful that you both knew right away. I've never felt that with anyone!' She looked up at the ceiling dramatically.

'Well, dear, you are only just seventeen,' Eleanor replied. 'Don't be in too much of a rush to grow up. The world is serious enough, and you are a breath of fresh air just as you are.'

Honora leaned over and kissed her grandmother's cheek. 'Thanks!' she chirped. It was true; Honora rarely felt the weight of the world on her shoulders. Although Polaris was clinging to the edge of existence, under threat by the Dark Lord all the time, within its stone walls was the warmth of family and friends and good magic. Honora felt secure and happy within its cocoon. Still…there was something else inside her, too. A yearning, a thirst, for something she could not name.

She wondered if it came from her Weasley ancestors. She was the last of them. The name of Weasley was lost now; since Honora's mother Adaire had wed her father, Felix Crowley, a half-English, half-Egyptian wizard who had given Honora her pale honey complexion. However, the Weasley blood was within her: her great-great-grandparents were Bill and Fleur Weasley. It was a sign of those desperate times in the Last War that none of the other members of the large Weasley family had lived long enough to have children.

Of course, Honora had heard the story as it had passed from Eleanor. The famous Weasleys, the loyal friends of the great lost Harry Potter. The mythology of her own heritage fascinated Honora. She only wished that things had turned out better for all of them.

Arthur and Molly Weasley had had seven children. Their eldest, Bill, Honora's great-great-grandfather, had married the legendary beauty Fleur Delacour (who was part-Veela, herself). Arthur and Molly's next son, Charlie, had been an adventuresome sort but had been killed in a dragon attack. Voldemort had sought the dragons soon after he sought the giants as part of his army of darkness, and the treacherous dragons had turned on their own handlers. The younger twins, Fred and George, owned their own business. They had been blown up in the final attack on London's Diagon Alley, fighting valiantly by all surviving accounts.

Then there were the youngest Weasleys: Ginny and her brother Ron, along with Ron's wife, Hermione Granger-Weasley. That story always captivated Honora's attention, like watching something horrible happen but being unable to tear your eyes away. Ron and Hermione, Harry Potter's best friends, had been killed with him during the final battle. And Ginny Weasley herself, Harry Potter's own fiancé, had been captured and later murdered by Death Eaters.

The personal tragedy of it all was too remote in time to have any real affect on Honora. But she still thought with a detached grimness toward her lost and persecuted family. Things had gone so wrong, and no one really knew why. After Voldemort's victory the whole world had changed. With no one to oppose him, the Dark Lord had rampaged through all of Europe, gathering all kinds of followers, and not just wizards, either. The giants, the dragons, the werewolves, the goblins, the dementors, the dark creatures…all had sworn allegiance to Voldemort on promises of spoils and Muggle blood. Muggle-born wizards were killed wherever they were found.

The war had spilled over to the Muggle world, as well. Soon the Muggle governments in Europe were secretly controlled by Voldemort. Then it was the United States, and Africa, and then the entire planet. The Dark Lord condensed them all into a fascist overlord-ship that imprisoned all the remaining Muggles in the world. The Muggles were kept in the dark, occupied with a hyper-realistic form of entertainment called 'virtual reality.' At the age of ten, magic tests were performed on all Muggle children. Any witches or wizards born into Muggle families were exterminated if they were discovered.

Most of the pure-blood families had joined Voldemort after Harry Potter's defeat. The very few that did not…they formed the Shadow Kingdoms, the underground. By Honora's time, they barely clung to survival.

Truthfully, sometimes a part of her wanted to appear before the Dark Lord and just throw herself on his mercy. Honora had such high spirits, and high _ambitions_, for herself. There was hardly a place for her in Polaris, or any of the Shadow Kingdoms. They were so concerned with staying alive and undetected that there was no growth, no opportunity for anything except defence against an overwhelming foe.

Honora thought that had she lived in Harry Potter's time, she would have wanted to work for the Ministry of Magic. So much opportunity, so many interesting things to study and discover…and maybe become a great leader herself. Show others the way to truth and happiness and all the rest.

As was the custom for all Shadow Kingdom children, she had been taught magic by a coalition of her elders, including her grandmother Eleanor and the First Wizard himself, Julius Talbot. Along with the others her age, Marlow, Freya, Jasper Gallows, and the overweight, over-giggly Lithia Poundstone, Honora had gone through her lessons in Defence, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Healing, Herbology…all the subjects required of a good witch. Honora knew she was the best in her small class. She read voraciously and took a genuine love to learning. Her grandmother joked that if Honora had gone to Hogwarts in the olden days, she would have been sorted into Ravenclaw.

_Hogwarts_. Honora thought of the name with chill down her spine. _The Dark Lord's headquarters_. It was now the centre of his global empire, its ancient magic working for him. Honora knew that Voldemort must be the only person still alive who remembered what it once was: a school for young witches and wizards. After all, the Dark Lord had outlived all of his original followers, being immortal himself. Honora was not convinced that he _was_ immortal; he must have a weakness somewhere. It was just that no one had discovered it yet.

The desserts of her birthday feast appeared on the table in front of her as Honora brought herself back to the present. Yes, home in Polaris was friendly. Perhaps it was the wine she had been drinking, but Honora was all of a sudden overcome with restlessness. She wanted to get _out_, to see the world (or what was left of it), make a name for herself. She wanted, in fact, for the Dark Lord Voldemort himself to fear _her_ name.

'Someday,' she muttered.

'What was that, dear?' Eleanor turned to her.

'Oh, nothing,' Honora put her normally cheerful expression back on her face. 'Just thinking about my sticky toffee pudding.'

The torches were burning down in the stone hall, and the guests were getting steadily merrier by the minute. Finishing her pudding, Honora got up from the head table and joined Freya and Marlow by perching herself on the edge of their own long wooden table.

'So, how does it feel to be an adult?' Freya laughed at her.

'Why don't you tell me?' Honora joked back. 'You've been one for five months now, and you still don't act like it.'

'Hey!' Freya tossed her golden-blonde hair. 'That's not true. Just ask Jasper,' she winked over at her beau. 'He'll tell you.'

'I don't think you want him to tell everyone what you've been up to,' Marlow broke in with a grin.

'Huh?' Jasper realised he was being discussed. 'What did I do?'

'Or is it 'who' did you do?' Honora giggled wickedly.

'Honora!' Freya gasped. 'I'm shocked!' she exclaimed, although she did not look shocked.

'Oh, don't worry, we know you two won't do anything, erm, rash,' Marlow said, his face starting to blush. He glanced up at Honora, and she smiled back.

Honora moved herself down onto their bench, next to Marlow. He casually slung an arm around her. She pretended not to notice. Honora was not sure about her feelings for Marlow. He was in love with her, she was quite certain. And he was a nice boy, tall with brown hair and lovely eyes. However, he lacked something, and she could not put her finger on what it was. Marlow was safe, and kind, and good. He would treat her well for the rest of her life. All of Polaris was expecting them to get married, sooner or later; Honora had heard two of the older witches gossiping about it.

With a toss of her head, she reached for some firewhisky. Quickly glancing around, she saw that most of the older citizens were engrossed in their own conversations, or dancing, or playing wizard's games. The younger children had been put to bed. Grinning mischievously, Honora suggested a drinking game.

'We can't! We're sure to get told off,' objected Marlow.

'Oh, don't be such a goody-goody,' Honora replied with exasperation. A slight look of hurt appeared on Marlow's face. 'Don't you want me drunk?' she flirted with him, trying to rectify her little mistake.

Marlow grudgingly smiled.

'Freya? Are you in?' asked Honora.

'Okay,' Freya agreed. 'Jasper's in, too, right sweetheart?' she tousled Jasper's blonde hair. They would have very blonde babies someday.

'Whatever you say, love,' Jasper said.

Someone coughed behind them, in an outburst that sounded a lot like 'Whipped!'

'Lithia!' Honora grinned up at the large girl. 'Join us?'

'Of course,' Lithia said, the table rattling as she sat down.

They played the 'Name Game' with increasing exuberance, the firewhisky taking effect. Honora felt herself getting drunk. She had been drunk before, but never openly. Once she had induced Freya into stealing four bottles of wine, which they consumed one night, laughing and sharing deepest darkest secrets. Honora had rashly proclaimed that one day she would take Lord Voldemort's place as ruler of the world. Freya had looked horrified until Honora giggled and said she was only kidding, after all.

It was nearly midnight when Honora and her friends finished off the bottle of firewhisky. Honora was well and truly smashed, as she stumbled her way through the carved stone tunnels to her home apartment. Marlow had her by the arm, although he was just as inebriated. Honora giggled hysterically and Marlow chuckled along, although she could not remember what was so funny. They reached the thick wooden door, marked in glowing white letters, 'Eleanor Weasley-Demetrius and Honora Crowley.'

'Well, we're here,' Honora said quietly. She looked into his face and realised with dread that he was about to make some sort of declaration.

'Honora,' he slurred. 'I love you.'

She gulped. 'Marlow, I—'

'I do, I love you. Do you love me too?'

'Marlow, I'm tired. You're drunk. Hell, I'm drunk.' She gently pushed him off of her. 'I'm sorry. Look, why don't you just take a walk. Get some air. Just get away from me.'

Marlow got the familiar look of perplexed hurt. 'Wait, Honora!'

'No. I'm going to sleep.' She made a motion of sleep with her two hands. 'I'll see you in the morning.'

She waved her hand over the lock on her door and slipped inside before he could say anything else. For a half-second, she felt a little bad for Marlow, since she had flirted with him all night and then not followed through. But the thought only flitted through her head briefly before she mumbled to herself about how it was not her fault if he fancied her. With a wave of numbed dizziness, Honora slumped down the wall. A single candle burned on the table, although to her it looked like about five candles. Her head nodded down, and she fell asleep, right inside her own door.


	2. Centurion

**Author's Notes: **And here's the next chapter…Thanks to _Wren_ for the sweet review!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

**Chapter 2**

**Centurion**

'Honora. Wake up, Honora. This is no time for sleep.'

'Hmmph?' Honora felt pain lace through her forehead. 'No, Grandmother, I want to sleep…' she fell over completely.

SMACK! Honora jumped to attention as her grandmother actually slapped her across the face.

'Wake up!'

'Grandmother!' Honora held a hand to her own pale face, looking up in bleary-eyed shock. 'What in the world--?'

'Polaris is under attack. We have to go down to the dungeons. It's not safe here. Now get up, for the love of Harry Potter!' Eleanor whirled through the room, her healing potions flying into an open valise. 'Now, girl!'

Honora scrambled to her feet, and then groaned as more pain went through her head. An attack on Polaris? Death Eaters? This was not good, especially for the morning of a hangover. She was still wearing her white dress from her birthday feast, but there was no helping that now. She went as quickly as she could manage into her room, and grabbed her wand (hazel, unicorn hair, eleven inches) and a heavy fur stole. It was cold down in the dungeons. She rejoined her grandmother who rushed her out the door, setting a locking charm behind her.

The narrow rock corridors were dark, echoing, and several other people were running, clutching bags of belongings, faces white with alarm. Honora felt her blood pounding through her heart, matching her racing footsteps. A sense of imminent panic filled the air. Honora began to feel scared. It looked serious. She could hear children crying, and then someone screaming. Yes, it looked very serious, although her muddled head was still confused as to what was happening.

She followed Eleanor down tight spiralling steps, down into the dungeons. The staircase would retract as soon as everyone was safe down below. In the dank, low-ceilinged space, Honora caught a glimpse of Freya and Jasper, huddled together. _Half-dressed_, she thought wryly. She saw Lithia, with her parents. Marlow was nowhere in sight. Nearly every other inhabitant of Polaris was there, eyes wide and anxious. Children clung tightly to their parents, sensing the chaos, the danger.

Honora had been in the dungeons before, but never had they seemed so dark, oppressive, the weight of the entire island pressing down on the rough-chiselled ceiling. They really were no better than caves, and a steady dripping of water could be heard plinking above the terrified whispers of the people.

A loud bang issued from above, causing dusty bits of rock to puff down on their heads, and Honora jumped. _What if the Death Eaters get in? What if we are all killed?_ her tired mind shrilled at her. _What if this is the end for all of us?_

'Stop it,' she told herself in a hoarse whisper, not loud enough for anyone to hear. 'Just shut up.' Fear would not help her right now, so she shut it away for the time being. She plucked her way over to Freya and Jasper. 'Have you guys seen Marlow?' They shook their heads.

'Marlow Woden?' said a voice. Honora looked over and saw Coral Gideon, a witch in her mid-thirties, looking grim. 'He's the reason we're down here. He set off the alarm, that is, before he was—'

'What?' Honora breathed. 'What are you saying?'

'I heard the First talking about it to the Aurors. Marlow went above-ground, last night…why he did, I'm not sure…but that's when he saw them. Dementors, a swarm. They found us, somehow. He alerted the guards but –'

'No!' Fear swooped back in, and Honora felt her heart clench in alarm. 'They didn't, er, they didn't _kiss_ him…did they?' her voice squeaked out, sounding for all the world like a terrified five-year old. She looked over at her grandmother, as if for comfort. Eleanor Weasley was looking at her with sympathy, grief, and something else. Was it disapproval?

'I think they did,' Coral said. 'I'm so sorry, Honora. I know that you and he were – meant for each other.'

Honora turned away wordlessly. She could not believe it. Marlow? The same boy who had professed his love to her the night before? And she had told him to 'get some air'. She felt suddenly numb. It could not be. It was not possible. Why would Marlow have done something so stupid, and gone aboveground, into the night?

_Because he was heartbroken, and intoxicated_, said a voice in her head. _But he should have known better,_ the same voice continued. Honora sank down to the floor and crossed her legs. With chill horror she realised that with the Dementor's kiss, even Marlow's soul had been lost. It was terrible thing to have had happen, and it was her fault. Honora wondered briefly if she should feel guilty or responsible, and wondered why she felt neither of those things. Only an impersonal sadness and, she thought woefully, a sense of relief that it had not been her, to be kissed by a Dementor.

Eleanor Weasley slowly lowered herself down to sit next to her granddaughter.

'Honora,' she said gently. 'What happened last night?'

'I- I can't remember, exactly,' Honora lied.

Eleanor pulled out her wand. '_Legilimens_,' she whispered.

With a nasty jolt, Honora felt her grandmother crawling through her mind, her memories. Honora and Freya, six years old and playing with wizard's marbles on the floor of the common hall…Honora successfully transfiguring a chair into a gopher on her first try, with a yelp of triumph…Honora and Marlow kissing, no, wait – she slammed her mind closed. 'What are you _doing_?' she hissed at her grandmother.

'Seeing if you're telling the truth,' Eleanor stated brusquely. 'Who's been teaching you Occlumency?'

'Julius Talbot,' Honora said. It was true; the elderly First Wizard had taken a further hand in Honora's studies when it became clear she had enormous potential. It was well-known that the Dark Lord's interrogators used Legilimency with regularity. 'And if you want the truth, fine. I started it. We had the firewhisky, and we were just talking and having fun, and then Marlow walked me back to our door. He- he confessed how much he felt for me, but I couldn't really think straight so I told him to go to bed. I thought that he did,' Honora finished, omitting the part of the story where she had told Marlow to go outside. 'That was all.'

'Foolish girl!' Eleanor scolded. 'You were leading that boy on. I can see it, plain as day. Now listen hard, Honora,' she continued. 'This is not a game. This is not a joke. You are still acting as a child, in these times of grave danger. I know you are not satisfied or entirely happy here in Polaris—' Eleanor held up a hand as Honora tried to protest this '—but you take things entirely too lightly.'

'And how is that my fault?' Honora felt herself getting angry. 'There is nothing fun here, nothing new, nothing to _do_ with myself. Can you blame me?'

'No, I can't blame you,' Eleanor said, a little more gently. 'But you must realize something. I fear, especially now, that the Dark Lord's forces are hemming us in. Drawing closer. We are losing our centuries-old battle, Honora.'

At that moment, First Wizard Julius Talbot, the greatest wizard in Polaris, burst in the dungeon door. A few startled shrieks greeted him, but died off when the citizens saw his face.

Julius was burning with anger. His normally laid-back and kind manner was gone; instead he was radiating power and urgency. 'The Dementors are breaking through the outer defences,' he announced to the terrified crowd. 'We haven't much time. I can take off the Apparition wards, but it will allow the Dementors in. I have reason to believe Death Eaters are straight behind them. There is only one solution.' Several others nodded. 'I will remove the wards in ten seconds. It will buy us minutes, at the very most. Parents, gather your children for side-along Apparition. We go to Centurion.' Julius brought out his wand, and with a wave a number 10 glowed in the air. It turned into a 9…8…7…

Honora turned to her grandmother, eyes wide. 'Grandmother? Where is Centurion?'

'I know where it is. You'll side-along with me.' Eleanor got out her own wand. She took Honora's arm firmly in her grasp. 'Ready?'

Honora nodded.

The countdown read 3…2…1…the air filled with cracks and pops as the inhabitants of Polaris disappeared. Honora felt a squeezing, like through a tube, highly unpleasant. Just when she thought she was going to suffocate, the squeezing sensation let up and she found herself standing in a pine forest grove, surrounded by most everyone else from Polaris.

The air was cold, but then most places on Earth were cold these days. At least there was no snow on the ground. Honora looked around slowly. Tall, bare tree trunks stretched upward, capped by dull green pine branches. The trees stretched as far as the eye could see, fading to grey. The forest appeared deserted, and yet…it felt like something was watching them. She gripped her wand tightly.

With one last popping noise, Julius Talbot Apparated. He swirled around, counting heads. Seemingly satisfied, he walked out of the group and into the forest.

'Where's he going?' Freya whispered. Honora shrugged in response. She was in slight shock, and she knew it. Losing one of her best friends to Dementors, leaving Polaris, every possession and memory swept away…it was all Honora could do not to break down and start screaming. Instead, found a cold core of strength in herself, and that was all she could focus on. It may have been slightly twisted, but standing there, in an unknown forest, Honora actually started to feel a little burn of excitement.

She had never been off the island of Polaris her entire life. She had barely been allowed outside, to see the light of day. Now, everything was changing so fast and hard and it made Honora breathless.

With keen youthful ears, she picked up a sound in the forest. It sounded like hooves. Peering her head through the trees, she made out the figure of Julius Talbot with…Honora blinked several times to confirm…a centaur! A bona fide centaur! She tugged on her grandmother's sleeve.

'Look, look! I thought they were all gone,' Honora whispered to Eleanor.

'Not all, just most,' Eleanor said with a nod. 'We are at their last stronghold, far in the forests of Siberia. I'm not sure why Julius brought us here, but he must have had his reasons.'

_We'll find out soon enough_, Honora thought.

The centaur was very intimidating. He had black hair and a roughened expression, dark eyes darting around disdainfully at the human intruders. Beside the centaur, Julius looked war-weary and pale; it was understandable, considering his Shadow Kingdom had fallen to the Dark Lord just moments before.

A hush fell over the group of shell-shocked refugees as Julius cleared his throat. Theblack-hairedcentaur stood back, lips pressed together in judgmental silence.

A waver cracked through the First Wizard's voice, as he spoke to his people. 'I have requested asylum here, in Centurion. I'm afraid the centaurs have yet to decide on our status; I will appear at their herd's council to speak for us. If we are denied asylum, we will have to disperse to the other Shadow Kingdoms as best we can.' His words hung heavy in the air. Julius bowed, apparently having nothing more to say, and turned to follow the centaur back through the trees.

The citizens of Polaris looked around at each other gravely, some muttering in low tones of trepidation.

Their fate would be decided by the centaurs.


	3. Safe Haven

**Author's Notes: **Thanks to _Wren_ and _Tiamat Warcraft _for their reviews! This is a bit of a transition chapter…when writing this, I was listening to a song by Jewel that goes 'innocence can't be lost…it just needs to be maintained.' That's what I was thinking of when writing Honora's POV and thoughts about her situation.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

**Chapter 3**

**Safe Haven**

When Julius Talbot disappeared with the gruff centaur, Honora started to worry. She knew what dispersion meant; she would never see most of the people from Polaris ever again. It meant separation from her friends, and there was no guarantee that they would even reach the other Shadow Kingdoms safely. Lord Voldemort's secret police monitored everything, from the Floo Networks to the Apparition records. Besides, if Polaris had been found, it was likely that other Kingdoms had been discovered, as well.

A morbid image flitted through her head of herself, caught by the Dark Lord's forces, tortured, Crucio-ed, starved, given to the Dementors as her soul was sucked out and gone forever…Honora shook off the gloomy thoughts with effort. She would rather turn to the Dark side than let something that bad happen to her.

Her grandmother whispered to her quickly about the centaurs' general dismissal of humans. 'They are unlikely to want to get involved in our problems,' Eleanor said, her voice sounding old and hopeless. 'Only if there are a few decent ones in their midst do we even stand a chance.'

Honora felt tightly wound, and ill at the whole situation. It was desperately unfair that she, a witch just entering her prime, should face such a dismal future. In all likelihood, they would have to leave this momentary safety, and go to some unknown and dangerous place. It was out of anyone's control, and if there was one thing she hated, it was losing control.

_I won't let it affect me. I won't_! She clenched her fists, and closed her eyes. She was Honora Crowley, the last of the Weasley line. Yes, now she had lost someone, a dear friend. Yes, she had been ripped away from the safety of her home. But she was still fiercely innocent, herself. She vowed there and then to stay happy, and do what _she_ wanted, which was get out of this terrible situation somehow.

Honora was suddenly sick to death of the people around her, even her own grandmother, with their depressing attitudes and sense of noble despair. Honora did not care about them or what they thought. She wanted life, and a good life at that. Just because most the world was dark…who cares? _She_ was light.

With a surge of power, Honora felt her ambition to light the world rise up like a snarling beast inside her. She wanted to _defeat_ Voldemort. And she could not fool herself – she wanted it for herself, not for the sake of these scared people around her.

To be great, to be revered, to rise to the ultimate challenge and take it by the horns and wrestle it to the ground…Honora nearly growled out loud in anticipation. _Is it insane to want to rule the world, but in a good way?_ she wondered briefly. The way she had been raised, ambition was like a bad word. Everything in the Shadow Kingdoms was done selflessly, for the safety of others. Honora would much rather take care of herself first.

She shrugged to herself in the cold. It did not matter. Sure, she wanted glory. But if that meant freedom and happiness for everyone else at the same time, how could it be bad? With a frown, she decided that no matter what new events crashed upon her, she was going to let this be an opportunity, not a disaster.

In those moments, waiting in an alien forest to hear her fate, Honora started to grow up.

A rustling whisper swept through the group. Julius Talbot was back, along with the first centaur Honora had seen, and another one that appeared to be a female. He introduced them as Bane and Morrigan, leaders of Centurion.

The centaur, Bane, appeared at the head of the group. He looked to be in an ill temper, and his nose crinkled in apparent disgust with having to work with mere humans. The fair lady centaur next to him, Morrigan, seemed more approachable. She whispered something to Julius, and he nodded.

'Citizens of Polaris,' Julius began. 'The centaurs have welcomed us to their last grove, Centurion.' A palpable wave of relief washed through the crowd; Honora felt hope lift inside her. 'Here we will stay until other Shadow Kingdoms can be notified of our plight. Their leader, the venerable Bane—' Julius nodded at him '—and Morrigan now have some things to say.'

Bane stepped forward. 'We centaurs rarely take a hand in human affairs. However, even now we can see the entire world will freeze in darkness unless steps are taken. The centaurs are dying out, our herds dispersing. The Dark Lord has sent many dark creatures after us, yes, indeed…but he has not defeated us yet. You, remaining humans, and we, remaining centaurs, are some of the last free creatures left on the planet. I will expect you to behave accordingly, with dignity and respect and quiet, if you wish to be under our temporary protection here at Centurion.' He glared at the crowd of people sternly.

'Additionally,' broke in Morrigan. 'We have told your First Wizard of Polaris, Julius Talbot, about what we feel is necessary. It is a drastic step, but we have foreseen it in the stars. It is the only way.'

Honora's brow furrowed at this. Morrigan was sounding a bit coy and vague. She wondered what the 'drastic step' would be.

Morrigan continued, 'If everyone will please follow me, I will show you to your tents. You must rest tonight, and the morning will bring what it brings.'

Honora stepped forward, holding onto her grandmother's arm. 'Can we trust the centaurs?' she whispered in a low tone. 'They haven't told us what we are really doing here. What if it is a trap?'

Eleanor Weasley looked at her granddaughter with some respect. 'Suspicion! And vigilance! Your grandfather would be proud of you.' Honora quirked her mouth in a smile of pride. 'But, no. Julius Talbot is too good a wizard to be fooled into a trap. I think the centaurs have probably told him the whole story, if not the rest of us. The real question is, how did the Death Eaters find out about Polaris?'

Honora thought about this for a moment. 'We were betrayed,' she concluded. 'Someone who knew its location told the Dark side. Or perhaps another of the Shadow Kingdoms has been taken over, and they got the location from there,' she suggested.

'Very good. I had reached the same conclusion,' Eleanor said. 'Here, we've reached the tents. We must rest now.'

'All right,' Honora agreed. She was very tired, now that she thought about it. She went into the sparsely-appointed white canvastent and sank down onto a cot, falling asleep nearly instantly. In her dreamless slumber, she kept her wand tightly in her fingers.

Awaking at dawn the next morning, Honora slipped out of thetent into the chill light. She was still wearing her white birthday dress, and was grateful she had thought to bring her furs. With a quick cleansing charm, she took care of her toilette and wandered out into the forest. She leaned up against an old pine and just stared into the trees for awhile. This was all new to her; being outside, not underground; everything suddenly topsy-turvy. She liked it, just a little bit.

A snap of a twig behind her caused Honora to whirl around, wand brandished. She relaxed when she saw Freya. Her best friend did not look well.

'Freya,' Honora said. 'Come here.'

'I just don't know what to do,' Freya said tearfully. 'Marlow—I just can't believe he's gone.'

'I know,' Honora said, pulling Freya into a hug. 'It's terrible.'

'And for you most of all,' Freya sobbed. 'I mean, you were going to marry him, weren't you?'

'Er…' Honora did not want to say anything one way or the other. She probably would have married Marlow Woden, but she would not have been very enthusiastic about it. She kept silent instead of saying something that would have sounded disrespectful to poor Marlow's memory.

'If it had been Jasper…' Freya sniffled and pulled away. 'What are we going to do now? Where do we go?'

Honora looked at Freya for a moment, and then gazed up toward the treetops. 'Anywhere,' she whispered. She shivered with excitement. Freya took it for fear, and clasped Honora's hand.

'Come on. Your grandmother is up, I saw her talking to the First.'

Back at their tented refugee camp, more people were awake. Most looked sad, frightened, shocked: pale scared faces, prematurely aging. People huddled together for a semblance of sanity and order.

Eleanor Weasley-Demetrius gestured for Honora to come over. 'Dear, I need you to gather Freya, Jasper, and Lithia. You four are the only ones who qualify.'

'Qualify for what?' Honora asked. Julius Talbot, at Eleanor's side,looked atHonora appraisingly, and shook his head slightly.

'You will see. You have a meeting with the centaurs in an hour,' he said.

Honora looked at him oddly, but Julius just turned away.

She conjured some toast and tea for her remaining friends. The morning got slightly brighter, but not much. The sky past the trees was grey and bleak. Even the forest was colourless; washed out by the waves of cold wind breezing through it. As Freya, Jasper, and Lithia finished their breakfast with Honora, Julius Talbot appeared before them, looking more serious than Honora had ever seen him. Her grandmother Eleanor was with him.

'The centaurs have requested your presence now. All of you,' he said to the group.

They all looked at each other with worried expressions. Honora got up, brushing crumbs off her lap. She had to admit, centaurs were intimidating creatures. She was not entirely sure she wanted business with them. They did not care for humans or their troubles, and Honora was positive they would not hesitate to brush humans aside for their own plans.

However, there was no choice at the moment. She and the others from Polaris were stranded, at the mercy of these creatures. _What do the centaurs want with four seventeen-year-olds? _Honora thought to herself. She was sure it could not be good, whatever it was.

Swallowing her fear, she stood and grasped Freya's hand as they followed the First Wizard through the trees.


	4. Fool's Journey

**Author's Notes: **I'll say it now, there will be HBP spoilers from here on out… And thanks to _angelbaby10105_ for your review!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

**Chapter 4**

**Fool's Journey**

Honora, along with Lithia, Freya, and Jasper, gave each other puzzled looks as they followed Julius Talbot through the forest. They could not imagine why the centaurs would want only them. However, Julius was silent and Honora's grandmother Eleanor looked equally reticent.

Finally they came into a small clearing. In the centre was a flat stone dais, raised several inches above the forest floor. To one side of the dais, a cracked stone pedestal stood, holding up a large and worn-looking book. Morrigan the centaur stepped forward, her white-blonde hair shimmering. Bane was behind her, still scowling.

'Young ones,' she began. 'We centaurs read the stars. One of you has a great destiny.'

Honora started paying keen attention.

'The Dark magic of Voldemort has affected the world, greatly. We see that there is not much time left, for all living creatures on Earth. Death is descending. And yet, a sliver of hope remains. For our long history, we centaurs have been the diviners of the stars. We see what was, and what will be. And now, we see an opportunity.' Morrigan turned to Bane, who continued the speech.

'Next week, there will appear an exceedingly rare planetary alignment,' he said. 'One that will open up a crack in time itself. If we take advantage of this, there could be a way to save _our_ world.' Bane seemed loathe to admit that he did share a planet with human beings.

'A crack in time…' Honora whispered. She started to smile. This was getting interesting.

'We estimate that the crack will open up for a few minutes only. We must be prepared to send someone through it,' Morrigan explained.

Feeling brave, Honora stepped forward. 'Excuse me,' she said. Morrigan nodded as Eleanor Weasley watched her granddaughter with sharp eyes. 'Where does this crack in time lead?'

Morrigan's silver eyes glittered. 'The alignment corresponds with the eleventh of August, of the year 1943.'

Honora stepped back, confused. What good could that do? If it were really to help, the crack should have gone back to Harry Potter's time, in the 1990s, when it all went wrong in the first place.

'Thus,' Bane's deep, scary voice said, 'you must choose among yourselves which of you wants to go.'

Julius elaborated. 'Whoever goes back will be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,' he said. An involuntary shudder went through the company at the mention of Lord Voldemort's headquarters. 'There is…something else.' He looked reluctant. 'Whoever goes back will be unable to return. This is a one-way journey; only the alignment allows it to be possible in the first place.'

The gravity of the situation began to sink in. 'Does one of us have to go?' Freya asked, sounding hesitant.

'It is our only choice,' replied Morrigan. 'So, yes, it must be one, and only one, of your group. The alignment occurs and the crack appears here, in this clearing, in one week's time. One of you must go.'

Honora thought rapidly. 1943! So long ago! She felt an urge inside her, powerful and uncontrollable. She wanted to go. She wanted to get away from this cold, dying, imprisoned world. She wanted a future for herself. In the past, maybe she could become so powerful as to stop Lord Voldemort before he even started.

Before any of her other friends could claim it, Honora stepped forward. 'I volunteer to go,' she announced. Julius nodded at her. Her grandmother looked unsurprised.

'And the rest of you?' Morrigan asked. 'Is this your decision, to send Honora?'

The others looked at each other silently. 'Well,' began Lithia, 'I don't know…Honora is the best witch, I suppose.'

'No!' said Freya. 'I don't want you to go! First we lose Marlow, now you?'

Honora saw an opening. 'It's—it's because of Marlow that I _should_ go!' she said, putting tears into her voice. 'I want to avenge him, his loss has hurt me so much…I have nothing left here for me,' she finished in a hoarse whisper, attempting to sound heartbroken rather than thrilled.

Only Eleanor noticed the ploy. 'Clever girl,' she whispered to herself, unheard by anyone else.

'It is decided,' Bane growled, apparently fed up. 'Julius, it is up to you to educate her on what she needs to know. I must ask you humans to retreat now.' He turned away.

Honora felt peculiar as she walked away between Julius and her grandmother. All of a sudden, she was leaving her own world forever. Her emotional state kept splitting itself between ecstatic anticipation and dread fear. Most of all, she knew that there was no choice involved; for her, it was the only escape from an unspeakable future.

Her training was undertaken immediately, under the supervision of Julius Talbot, as usual. The large book that the centaurs had in the clearing, as it turned out, was an historical account of the Last War.

Julius explained that Honora should read the entire thing, no small task as the book was at least two thousand pages long.

'This is a direct account of the rise of the Dark Lord, as related by Minerva McGonagall, the last headmaster of Hogwarts School. She wrote down everything that happened, from Voldemort's beginnings to the time of her own death at the age of ninety, shortly after the defeat of the Order of the Phoenix. I suggest you study it well.'

Honora did. The story was interesting as well, populated with her own Weasley ancestors and full of high drama. She learned about Harry Potter, and his tragic end. Most interestingly, she read about Voldemort himself: the magical transformations he undertook, his use of Horcruxes to guarantee his own immortality, his school days. This latter was the most important, Honora could see immediately.

Voldemort was born under the name Tom Marvolo Riddle, according to McGonagall. He was a student at Hogwarts itself, beginning in the year 1938. Honora recognised that she would be in that time. Tom Riddle had shown himself bad from an early age. McGonagall took many of her tales from the Pensieve of the great wizard Albus Dumbledore, who remembered many things about Tom Riddle.

Honora learned that Voldemort was the heir of Salazar Slytherin, one of the founders of Hogwarts. He was a half-blood, raised in a Muggle orphanage. This surprised her, and she wondered if he was mistreated there. Perhaps that would explain his hatred of all things Muggle. He had murdered his own father and grandparents in the summer of 1943, directly before the time when Honora should appear from the future.

Other than those basic facts and timeline, however, there was very little about Voldemort's character or day-to-day life. McGonagall had been some years older, and only remembered Voldemort in his school days as a clean-cut, quiet, powerful wizard in Slytherin house.

In addition to McGonagall's book, Honora was briefed on the world history of the time. The Muggles were embroiled in a great war, although it did not compare to the Last War. A Dark wizard came out of Germany named Grindelwald, who seemed to be part of the problem. Julius Talbot suggested they use this as an excuse for her appearance, and Honora laughed with delight at the brilliance of the idea.

'Yes!' she agreed. 'I have been in hiding from Grindelwald because my family opposed him. That's good.' She loved making up stories.

'And it will immediately win the sympathy of Albus Dumbledore, a powerful and good ally to have,' Julius added.

The week passed by exceedingly quickly. Freya grew more morose all the time at the prospect of losing her best friend forever. Jasper tried to comfort her by saying they would name their first-born daughter after Honora. This only made Freya cry all the more.

'It's all right,' Honora assured her. 'This is what I want. I'm excited to go, I want to do my part.' It was true. The world of 1943 was so free compared to her dim existence in 2112. She would have so many things to see and do and become. It was her old dream, come to life, of having limitless opportunity.

The night before the alignment, Eleanor Weasley sat down with her granddaughter in their tent. Both women were subdued; Honora knew she would miss her grandmother most of all.

'Honora. You are growing into an amazing witch. I only wish I could be there to see you reach your full potential.' Eleanor put a hand on Honora's cheek. 'You burn so brightly, dear.'

Honora just looked at her, uncharacteristically sombre.

'There are a few things I must tell you, though. My last words of advice. You may not heed them now, but promise me you will at least remember it.' Honora nodded in affirmation. 'Right. You must not underestimate the seriousness of the situation. I know why you want to do this. You want adventure, and glory, to prove yourself. That is a good thing! But don't let yourself get distracted from your task. Fix the situation with the Dark Lord first, and then become whoever it is you want to become.'

Honora nodded again. She did need to take this thing seriously, even if she was so light-hearted in nature.

'And one more thing. Do not underestimate Voldemort, er, Tom Riddle. He was exceedingly dangerous, even then. If he gets an inkling of what you are about, he will kill you. Do you understand?'

'Yes,' Honora whispered.

'Do what you need to do, but don't act rashly. Keep in mind that you will be in that time, in that world, for the rest of your life. In those days, there were strict laws governing magic. You cannot just 'get rid' of Riddle. You must be cunning about it. Remember he is still considered an innocent by those around him, even if you know better. He is an upstanding student and by McGonagall's account was well-loved by his teachers. Whatever you do to stop him, you must live with.'

Honora gulped. She had not even thought about that. She had considered just cursing him into oblivion the moment she saw him, just getting it over and done with. Now, she saw that would not work. A sudden stab of fear went through her, as she contemplated meeting the real Lord Voldemort, young and able and very hostile.

In her head, in front of the mirror, she had rehearsed a confrontation with Voldemort many times. In her fantasies, she was always a powerful white witch, a queen of incomparable power, and made Voldemort fall at her feet. Now, her reality would be taking on the responsibility of defeating the most powerful wizard in history, and saving the entire planet from death and darkness…all as a clueless and under-prepared seventeen year-old.

Eleanor grasped her hand. 'Oh, don't worry, my dear Honora. You will be brilliant. Lately as I've been watching you, I've reassessed my evaluation of which Hogwarts house you could be in – I would say that with the way you wrap the unsuspecting around your little finger, you could easily pass for a Slytherin.'

'Really?' Honora did not know whether to feel proud or insulted. She opted for proud. After all, she could not believe that ambition by itself was not a bad thing. It was from the Crowley side, she knew; the ancient pure-blood family was famous for their ambition and creativity. Most Crowley children had gone to magical school in Egypt, but the few that had ended up in Hogwarts had invariably been Slytherins.

'Be careful, walk slowly at first, and do not make any rash moves,' advised Eleanor. 'It is better to learn your way around first, then you can do what you will do. Although don't wait too long; Tom Riddle will be getting stronger by the day.'

'What will happen to you, grandmother? What will happen here, when I do kill Riddle and change what happens in the past?'

Eleanor sighed. 'This future will be altered,' she admitted. 'I may not exist. Everything will be different. But at this point, we are all willing to sacrifice ourselves for a better future for the whole of the world. Even as we speak, Voldemort's forces are closing in on the Shadow Kingdoms. It seems he has tired of us, finally. There is no other choice.'

'But what if I alter something back in 1943, to make myself not exist here and now?'

'You probably will do that,' Eleanor said. 'I highly doubt you will exist here, if you accomplish your mission. But since you went back to that time, your 1943 self will continue. Julius explained it; the centaurs seem to understand the whole thing even if we humans don't.' She laughed shortly. 'I'm happy for you, Honora. This is a thing worthy of you, of your heritage. What's more, I think you are actually looking forward to it, aren't you?'

'Yes,' Honora confessed. Then she broke into a grin, shaking off her worries. 'I'm going to have fun with this!'

Eleanor smiled. 'Get some sleep, now. Tomorrow is a big day.'

Honora did not sleep much, that last night in 2112, and bolted up from a doze when the first rays of light filtered into the tent. She had many things to remember. She had been taught Apparition that week, learning it 'indecently' quickly, according to Julius. The crack in time would open in 1943, but she would still be in the middle of Siberia. It was most inconvenient. Thus, Honora would have to Apparate herself to a secluded part of a place in London called Hyde Park, then find her way to Diagon Alley.

She still had only her wand and her furs as possessions. She hoped her long white dress would not attract too much attention until she could get some new clothes. The centaurs had given her a large bag full of gold pieces they called Galleons. They told her it should be enough to keep her supplied for the two years she would be a student at Hogwarts.

Honora looked into the mirror in her tent as she gathered her things. Her dark auburn hair fell around her shoulders, looking a bit scraggly after a week of living in the woods. It had a natural wave to it that turned into a tangled mess if she wasn't careful. Dark brows arched over her pale blue eyes. Honora was usually very satisfied with her appearance, to the point of vanity.

_It seems unfair that I should be beautiful as well as clever_, she thought with a smirk. Then she put a hand over her mouth as she realised how full of herself she could be, and giggled. To fix the problem, she made a weird face at herself in the mirror, scrunching her nose and waggling her tongue between her teeth. The sight made her giggle harder.

'Honora?' Eleanor said, sticking her head in the tent. 'It's time to go. And why are you making faces at yourself?'

Honora turned sheepishly. 'Sorry, Grandmother, I was just, um, psyching myself up.'

Eleanor shook her head and turned away so that Honora could not see the expression of pain on her face. She was going to miss her crazy granddaughter, that was certain. The girl could light up a room, not just with her beauty but her spirited sense of fun. Eleanor could see much of the Weasleys in her, that irrepressible spirit. She could also see the Crowleys, the ancient pure-blood line creating a thirst for power. It was a volatile combination in a barely seventeen-year old girl.

Outside her tent, Honora said goodbye to her friends. They were more like family; they were the only people she had ever known. The remaining citizens of Polaris gathered around her to wish her luck and say goodbye. Honora even felt herself tearing up a little at the prospect of leaving them. Just because she was excited to go did not mean she would not miss her childhood home and all its kind residents.

Freya clung to her, sobbing, and Jasper gave her a warm hug as well. Honora was nearly crushed to death by Lithia, who then slapped her hard on the back in a gesture of solidarity.

'Promise me you all will be careful, be safe, and remember me,' Honora said to her friends.

'We will,' Jasper said, clasping Freya's hand. 'You'll always be in our hearts, Honora.'

'We could never forget you,' Freya added. 'You'll be wonderful, back in 1943. I know it,' she ground her chin confidently, even though she was crying.

'Okay, well, I have to go,' Honora said. She blew a kiss to the crowd as she walked away with her grandmother toward the centaur's clearing. Looking back, she saw faint stirrings of hope in an otherwise hopeless group of people. They were last ones, the only free people left, and Honora felt a deep, cold apprehension for the world in general. Life really was ending, for everyone. Suddenly she felt the weight on her shoulders for the first time. If she did not succeed, chances were all these people, and everyone elsein the Shadow Kingdoms, would be hunted down and killed. It would be the end of all things.

Through the bland pine forest she walked with Eleanor. They reached the clearing too soon, and found a large group of centaurs standing around in a circle. The strange beasts parted for them, and Honora did her best to put on a brave face.

'Is she ready?' Bane growled to Julius Talbot.

'Yes, she is ready,' he answered in the affirmative.

'The alignment will begin in ten minutes,' Morrigan announced. 'Honora, Eleanor, you may wish to say goodbye.'

This was the hardest of all. Eleanor Weasley-Demetrius was the only parent Honora had ever known. They hugged and kissed and soon tears were streaming down both of their cheeks.

Eleanor pressed something into Honora's hand. She looked at it: it was a large, heavy seashell-shaped gold locket. Clicking it open, Honora saw a detailed, beautiful family tree glowing inside, with faces of her family smiling up at her. Her parents, Adaire and Felix; and their ancestors, back to the Weasleys on her mother's side and the Crowleys on her father's.

'Whenever you lose heart, think of us,' Eleanor whispered. 'Think of your family. And all of those who might not be lost when you succeed in your task.' With bony hands she pressed the locket shut and closed Honora's hands around it. 'I love you, darling granddaughter.'

'I love you, too, Grandmother,' Honora said, not quite able to keep a sob out of her voice.

'It has started,' Bane interrupted. 'Look.' He pointed at the centre of the clearing. Directly above the raised stone, a bright white crack was opening up. It glowed with unimaginable brilliance, filling the clearing with white-purple light. A strange, thrumming sound filled the air, like growling rapids in a river, or teeth gnashing together. It felt unnatural, disconcerting. 'Step up, girl,' Bane ordered her.

Honora walked towards it, hesitantly. She shook hands with Julius, who whispered 'Good luck, Honora.' She glanced at Morrigan, the only centaur with a good attitude.

Morrigan looked back at her. 'Don't worry, child. You will only die for an instant.'

'Only WHAT?' Honora burst. 'Die?'

'Was it not explained to you?'

Honora shook her head furiously.

'Oh, dear. Well, when you step through the crack, your body will be destroyed. We are not sure what happens in the meantime, but we do know that on the other side, your body and everything on your person will be reassembled. Don't worry. It's like Apparition, just a bit…different.'

'Great,' Honora muttered. 'Well, here goes nothing.' She stepped toward the light, which had now increased to a door-sized portal. She glanced at her grandmother and Julius, who each waved at her. She smiled weakly. Not wanting to lose her nerve, she stepped forward.

'Now!' Bane fairly shouted the order, 'Now! Before it closes!'

Honora took a deep breath and stepped into the light.


	5. Magus

**Author's Notes: **Thank you to _Wren_, _blueforest, _and _lilith _for your reviews! I really appreciate them :-)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

Recap of Chapter 4:

'_Great,' Honora muttered. 'Well, here goes nothing.' She stepped toward the light, which had now increased to a door-sized portal. She glanced at her grandmother and Julius, who each waved at her. She smiled weakly. Not wanting to lose her nerve, she stepped forward. _

'_Now!' Bane fairly shouted the order, 'Now! Before it closes!'_

_Honora took a deep breath and stepped into the light._

**Chapter 5**

**Magus**

Pain, burning, so intense she could not stand it. Her body broke, shattered, was eaten by the maw in time that gobbled her up and disintegrated her.

Then a sudden calm, floating, no more feeling. Everything went black.

A tiny pinprick of light in the distance. A tunnel, bringing her closer, and closer…whizzing by, there were people there, thousands of them, millions of them.

Perfect love and perfect trust. Something great was near, she was swept up into light and life…Honora knew in that moment that there was a great world beyond the veil of death. Beauty enveloped her, a great brilliant light that hugged her close with ultimate love. It was so warm and wonderful that she did not want to leave…

And then darkness once more. A crack. Pins and needles all over. She could feel her limbs again, and her cheek pressed up against a soft bed of pine needles.

Honora's eyes blinked open. At first, everything was out of focus. She groaned and tried to move her fingers, her toes. Gradually, she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. She looked around; yes, she was in the forest clearing. But there were no centaurs, or humans for that matter. She was entirely alone.

She sat on the ground for several moments, contemplating what had just happened to her. She had died, and experienced death, and it was not all that bad…but now her soul was back in a reconstructed body, breathing and blinking.

Shaking her head of its cobwebs, Honora stood up uncertainly. She checked her wand (still intact) and her locket (unbroken) and her bag of Galleons (all there). The air was not cold, and this surprised Honora until she remembered that it was late summer in 1943.

'1943,' she said out loud. 'I'm back in time.' Glancing around once more, she broke into an exultant laugh. 'I'm back in time!' She spun on her heels, and pinched herself once to be sure it was real.

'Okay. Time to get down to business.' She brought out her wand and prepared to Apparate to London. _Hyde Park, Hyde Park, Hyde Park, London,_ she focused as hard as she could. '_Apparate!_' she commanded. There was that squeezing into a tube again, and then Honora saw new trees and new grass. She stepped into a breezy, warm, sunny day in London, England.

Grinning in self-appreciation, Honora took a few steps out of the trees that concealed her. There were a few people around, but not many. They wore very peculiar clothes. _Must be a Muggle thing_, she thought. Honora walked east through the picturesque park, passing a large silver lake, until she came to a street lined with stately white homes facing the trees. Several people stared at her curiously. She must look strange in her white dress, she concluded. Best to find Diagon Alley right away.

She could hardly take her wand out to point her in the right direction, so instead Honora wandered through the streets of London. She walked through a very posh area, and then got into what was clearly the heart of the city. Honora took it all in with glowing, amazed eyes. She could not believe there were so many _people_ all in one place, a vast and bustling city. The architecture was so interesting, white and clean, with beautifully ornamented iron fences. Now and then she could tell the older buildings by their worn grey stones, majestic and timeless. Honora fervently wished that she could explore Muggle London more fully.

Reaching a cross-roads called 'Picadilly', she kept heading east until she reached a square with trees and benches. A sign said it was called 'Leicester Square.' She had just passed through the square when an alarming noise started, sending people running through the streets. It filled Honora's ears with screeching emergency and she looked around frantically.

What was going on? People were disappearing into a tunnel marked 'Underground.' A man in a cap yelled in her face, 'What are you waiting for, lady? Get inside! Don't you know there's a war on?'

Honora heard a droning sound in the air and looked up. Great metal birds were swooping through the sky. She saw things dropping from them…and then she understood. The Muggle war was going on, and these must be their weapons. She had better find her way to a safe place.

She ran until she reached a street called Charing Cross Road, and turned right. People were still running, and then she heard a series of loud booms that sounded like explosions. They were not far away. Honora was at a loss as to what to do. Had she come back in time just to be blown up by Muggles?

Then she saw something that filled her with relief. A man in a long black coat was running down the street, holding what was unmistakeably an owl. _He must be a wizard!_ Honora realised. She ran after him, following him into a pub marked 'The Leaky Cauldron.' She stepped inside with a snap of the door and all was calm.

Several witches and wizards were sitting around old wooden tables, drinking or chatting or reading. Only a few glanced up at the girl in the white dress. Catching her ragged breath, Honora tried to remember all her briefings as to what she needed to do.

With remarkable presence of mind, Honora found the proprietor and booked a room at the Leaky Cauldron to stay until the term started at Hogwarts. She sent an owl to then-Professor Albus Dumbledore, explaining that she was a war refugee with no formal magical training, but was at sixth-year level. She went shopping on Diagon Alley and bought a functional wardrobe. She went to a hairstylist, and got her hair cut and styled appropriately for the 1940s. Wart, the barman at the Leaky Cauldron, was very helpful, and answered all her silly and odd questions with equanimity.

An owl came for her a few days later from Professor Dumbledore. Honora scanned the note carefully.

_'Dear Miss Crowley,_

_You must have had a terrible plight in Europe. We at Hogwarts will do everything we can to help you. I have spoken with the headmaster, Armando Dippet, and he is most willing to offer you a place at our institution._

_Since you have no formal magical training, I will visit Diagon Alley the week before term begins and test your abilities. We can then place you into the appropriate level at Hogwarts. Until then, please stay safe in London._

_Yours most respectfully,_

_Professor Albus Dumbledore.'_

Honora smiled in satisfaction. Everything was coming together.

A few weeks later, she was beginning to feel very comfortable in Diagon Alley. She was a fast learner, and took her grandmother's advice to heart. Her lack of formal magical education and 'refugee' story did a lot to explain her curiosity, and Honora had made friends with some of the shopkeepers in Diagon Alley as well as the staff at the Leaky Cauldron. With delight, she discovered things like Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans and Chocolate Frogs, novelties that had long disappeared in the gloom of the future.

There were so many witches and wizards everywhere, so many things to see, that Honora felt compelled to explore it all. It was exhilarating. There was a scope here that she was simply not used to. Polaris was tiny in comparison.

Professor Dumbledore appeared on the 28th of August. He sought her out at the Leaky Cauldron, and Honora nervously walked down the stairs, aware she was about to meet one of the greatest wizards of all time. She need not have been nervous, however; the bearded Professor Dumbledore was very nice to her and had a twinkle in his kind blue eyes that reminded Honora powerfully of Julius Talbot.

'So, Miss Crowley,' he began after they had finished butterbeers, 'There are a series of tests I must put you through. You are how old, exactly?'

'Er, just seventeen, sir. My birthday was…August 11,' Honora said in a burst of inspiration. It _was_ the day she had appeared in this time. According to her locket, it was also the birthday of the famous Ginevra Weasley, the love of Harry Potter's life.

'I see. Well, you should be in sixth year, then. At Hogwarts, we administer the Ordinary Wizarding Levels, or OWLs, at the end of fifth year. I'll start there; if you pass that level then I think sixth year is the place for you.'

Honora nodded. She felt confident she would pass OWLs, and she was right. When Dumbledore administered the tests, he was particularly impressed when she put up non-verbal defence shields and even produced a non-verbal Patronus charm. Honora was a little surprised at Dumbledore's reaction; in her time, everyone learned non-verbal defence. It was a matter of survival. However, it was to be expected that magic would evolve a little against a foe such as Lord Voldemort. Honora just mumbled that her father was a very powerful wizard and it must have rubbed off on her.

'Well, Miss Crowley,' Dumbledore brushed his hands together, 'that settles that. You are more than competent to become a student at Hogwarts, and I offer you a most sincere welcome.' He smiled at her, eyes glittering with good will.

Honora stood up and shook his hand, grinning. 'Thank you very much, sir.'

Dumbledore produced her letter of acceptance out of thin air and a list of her books. 'The train leaves Kings Cross at 11 am on the 1st of September,' he informed her. 'And I shall see you at Hogwarts. You will be sorted into your house along with the new first years at the opening feast.'

'Okay! Thank you, sir.' Honora accepted the letter and bid Dumbledore farewell.

Four days later, she woke up in her room at the Leaky Cauldron and carefully got dressed. She put on her new stockings, low-heeled black shoes, white blouse, grey jumper, black skirt. She left her uniform robes in her trunk; she would put them on when the train approached Hogwarts.

_Hogwarts_. Honora still had to tell herself it was just a school, not the Dark Lord's headquarters. It was difficult to overrule a lifetime of fear of a place like that. With a swish of her wand, she packed her trunk and levitated it down the stairs. Honora was glad Kings Cross station was not too far away. Muggle London was not safe, as her first day attested.

At Kings Cross, she wandered along between platforms 9, and 10, rather unsure of what to do, until she saw someone with a similar trunk walk through a brick wall and disappear. She deduced it had to be the entrance to Platform 9 and ¾. She followed the next person who did it and was immediately overwhelmed. Gleaming in red and gold glory was a steam train marked 'Hogwarts Express.' The platform was crowded with witches and wizards, of all ages. Parents hugged their children, older students gathered together in groups, reunited after the summer holidays.

Glancing around for Tom Riddle, Honora realised that she had absolutely no idea what he looked like. She had not been briefed on his appearance, and she could hardly expect him to be wearing a sign saying 'Future Dark Lord.' All she knew was that he was a Slytherin. She would just have to keep her eyes and ears open, that was all.

Taking a deep breath for courage, Honora pulled her trunk along and levitated it into an empty compartment toward the rear of the train. The cacophony around her did nothing to calm her nerves. She was scared and nervous and excited all at once. Honora hoped that the compartments were not pre-assigned, and that she was not taking anyone's place.

She sat down on the seat closest to the window, and waited. The clock read 10:52. Stragglers made their way onto the train, but no one bothered Honora in her compartment. She wondered why no one was sitting with her, then shrugged as she crossed her legs and leaned against her armrest.

One final whistle from the train, and a group of younger students burst into the compartment.

'Oh, sorry, can we sit here? All the others are full,' said a fair-haired girl.

'Sure, of course,' Honora nodded.

'Thanks!' These students looked to be about three years younger than Honora. Besides asking her name, they occupied themselves with a game called Exploding Snap and Honora took the opportunity to gaze out the window as the train picked up speed, heading north out of London.

When the terrain started getting rough and mountainous, and the sun was low in the sky, a girl with a crest on her robes stuck her head in the compartment. 'We're nearly there,' she said. 'Time to put your robes on.' The third-years scrambled, and Honora carefully put her black robes over her outfit, sitting back down with her hands clasped in her lap.

She looked up, and immediately caught eyes with a tall boy with a green and silver tie passing through the train's corridor. A shiver went down her spine. The boy had black hair and looked vaguely familiar to Honora. She saw his eyebrows come together for a split second in puzzlement when he saw her.

_Get used to it,_ Honora thought. _I have a feeling I'm going to cause quite the stir, being the new girl._

For all her nervousness, Honora loved the looks of Hogwarts so far. It was magnificent, glittering in all its towers, and her ride across the lake was memorable, even if it was with screaming little first years. Professor Dumbledore met them at the door, and pulled her aside for a moment.

'The headmaster is going to announce that we have a new student after the first years have been sorted,' he explained. 'Then you can be sorted and join your new house.'

Honora could only nod.

'You aren't frightened, are you?' he asked her, looking concerned and bemused all at once.

'Oh, no, not a bit!' Honora lied openly, then grinned at him. Dumbledore could tell she was scared witless, he did not need to ask her.

'All right, then. Don't worry, you're not the first transfer student we've had. Two joined us last year. In a time of war like this, it is not uncommon.'

That made Honora feel slightly better.

Honora waited in the shadows in a room off the Great Hall, and she heard silence descend as Headmaster Dippet (she assumed) announced that a new sixth-year would be joining them.

'Honora Crowley!'

Hearing her name, Honora stepped into the Great Hall. She held her head high, determined to look cool and collected. She smiled briefly at Dumbledore, and shook hands with Headmaster Dippet, a short, portly man with a careless air.

Whispers went through the assembled students. New students were always interesting. Honora could feel herself being judged and the Sorting Hat was not even on her head yet.

'Please sit, Miss Crowley,' Dippet gestured at a stool, and Honora obeyed.

She felt him place the Sorting Hat on her head and she bit her lip, waiting.

'_Oh my, oh my,_' the hat said. _'The future evolution of magic, indeed. So many things at once. There is the Weasley bravery, oh yes, don't think I am fooled, I know what it took for you to come here.' _Honora raised her eyebrows at this; she hoped the hat would not tell anyone. '_And ambition, burning in your heart, a flame, crawling out of darkness. But where to put you? Gryffindor and Slytherin blood do not mix well…so you must be somewhere in the middle…_'

Honora could see people glancing at each other. It seemed the hat was taking longer than usual with her.

'_I must put you somewhere, clever girl, so let it be…_**RAVENCLAW!**'

Honora breathed a sigh of relief. At least it was not Hufflepuff. She sat up, smiled, and walked down the steps to join the Ravenclaws, who were all applauding her.

**A/N**: I love reviews! So take a minute and tell me what you thought…thanks a million!


	6. Perception

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

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**Chapter 6**

**Perception**

Honora sat down at the Ravenclaw table between two girls her age, who scooted apart to make room for her.

'Welcome to Hogwarts!' said a girl with blonde hair and sharp brown eyes. Aside from the eyes, she looked a lot like Freya. It put a wrench in Honora's heart. 'My name is Damaris Turpin, I'm one of the sixth-year Ravenclaw prefects. And this is Kay St. John,' she pointed around Honora at the girl on her other side, a pretty brunette with blue eyes.

'Honora Crowley,' she replied. 'It's nice to meet both of you.'

'So, Honora,' Kay said, leaning on her elbow, 'what brings you to Hogwarts?'

'Well…' Honora paused for the appropriate tragic effect. It was not difficult, since it was not far from the truth. 'I've actually never had a proper education. My family has been in hiding from Grindelwald's forces in Austria,' she explained. 'We had to stay, erm, underground, basically. They found my family, but I managed to escape. Professor Dumbledore helped me get started here.'

'Wow, I'm sorry about your family,' said Damaris. 'How difficult.'

'Thanks,' said Honora. 'I'm just glad to be out of danger.'

Kay and Damaris nodded with understanding. 'Your name, Crowley,' said Damaris, 'is that like Aleister Crowley? The famous alchemist?'

Honora nodded. It was true, after all; the Crowleys were an old magic line. 'The same. Different branch of the family.'

'I'm pure-blood too,' said Damaris. 'And Kay is Muggle-born.'

'Really?' Honora turned to Kay curiously. She had never met a Muggle-born witch; in her time they were all killed before they reached the age of eleven. Kay mistook her interest for ill judgement, however.

'So what of it?' Kay said, casting her eyes down.

'It's good, really! It's just—um—I don't know many Muggle-borns. I think you're really interesting!' Honora enthused.

'Oh!' Kay smiled back at that. 'Well, anything you ever want to know about the Muggle world, I would be happy to tell you.'

Honora grinned at her new friends. If she had to live in this world forever, she wanted to be popular in it. She was introduced to some of the other Ravenclaw sixth-years: a well-muscled boy named Lawrence Carter who was the Quidditch captain, along with the Seeker, a slight but tall fair-haired boy named Ashley Wynn, called Ash.

As she chatted with the Ravenclaws, Honora glanced over at the Slytherin table next to them. The tall black-haired boy from the train was sitting there, looking at her with dark eyes. She held his gaze for a moment, then prettily turned her face away, conscious that his eyes were still on her.

The girls showed her to her dormitory in Ravenclaw Tower later that night and Honora's head was spinning with excitement at her new home. The door was guarded with a portrait of an Arabian wizard on a flying carpet, who winked at her when she said the password. Honora could see she would fit in with the other Ravenclaws and kept up with their fast banter. She loved her four-poster bed, decorated in luxurious blue and bronze. The round common room was a dream, too, with its dark blue velvet sofas and copper accents. It was more luxurious than Honora could have imagined after living her life in a rough-hewn refuge like Polaris.

She had gotten her schedule from Professor Drakkis, the Arithmancy teacher and Ravenclaw head of house. Glancing over the parchment, Honora saw she would be taking NEWT-level Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Arithmancy, Divination, Charms, and Transfiguration. That should be enough to keep her busy. She had also arranged private flying lessons with Jahn, the Quidditch referee. None of the other students would believe her if she said she had never been on a broom in her life, so Honora would have to catch up fast.

The first day of classes, Honora proudly wore her Ravenclaw crest that had appeared on her school robes. She had double Potions first thing in the morning. The Potions Master, Professor Slughorn, greeted the class jovially as they filed in the classroom. Four samples of potions were present, filling the air with interesting smells.

'Greetings, greetings, class,' Slughorn boomed. His blonde mustache seemed to bristle. 'Welcome to NEWT Potions. You are all the best in your respective houses to have made Potions OWLs, so expect this year to take you above and beyond the skills you have developed thus far.' He smiled benevolently at a group of Slytherins in the corner. Honora thought Slughorn liked the sound of his own voice quite a lot.

'Now, class. I have prepared four samples of very difficult potions, just out of interest. Who can identify them for me? We start with this clear one here by my Slytherins,' Slughorn pointed to a cauldron full of a crystal clear, odourless liquid. 'Anyone?'

'Veritaserum, sir,' said a male voice.

'Good, good, m'boy!' Slughorn intoned, pleased. 'Ten points to Slytherin. And what does Veritaserum do?'

'It forces a person to tell the absolute truth for up to five minutes,' the young man said, sounding bored. Honora turned to see who the Potions star was and recognised the same handsome dark-haired Slytherin she had noticed on the train, and in the Great Hall.

'And this one?' Slughorn asked his student. He answered again, correctly identifying Polyjuice Potion.

'Who is that?' Honora hissed to Kay, referring to the Slytherin genius.

'Oh. Tom Riddle.' Honora felt her stomach twist in fear as Kay continued. 'He's by far the cleverest boy in school. Slughorn worships him. It's not good to even think about besting him, even if we are Ravenclaws.'

Honora nodded. Tom Riddle, then. Her target. The person she was sent back to kill. She did not know what she had been expecting him to look like, but she had not anticipated that he would be so normal, indeed so good-looking.

'And this?' Slughorn continued, pointing to the cauldron on Honora's table.

'Amortentia, sir,' Tom Riddle said, 'the world's most potent love potion. It smells of whatever attracts a person.'

Interested in this last, Honora leaned forward toward the cauldron. She smelled sticky toffee pudding, and a sort of fresh pine forest smell, and some other scents she could not quite identify. It was intoxicating. She wondered what Riddle smelled in Amortentia. _Probably power and evil and death_, she thought cynically.

She snapped her attention back to class as Slughorn indicated the last potion, a small cauldron full of jumping gold. Honora smiled. She knew what this was; her father, Felix, had been named after it.

'And this last. Anyone?' Slughorn smiled, already turning toward Riddle's table for his answer… Until Honora's hand shot up into the air.

The movement attracted Slughorn's attention and his bushy blonde eyebrows raised in surprise. 'Our new student seems to know the answer. Yes, Miss Crowley?'

'That is Felix Felicis, sir. Bottled luck. A full dose creates a perfect day for whoever takes it. Everything seems to go right, and extraordinarily lucky coincidences can be expected to occur.'

Slughorn brought his hands together in a clap. 'Very good, Miss Crowley! I see you were not misplaced in Ravenclaw. Fifteen points,' he nodded to her. Honora gave him a charming smile. She could feel Tom Riddle looking at her from the corner. _Probably annoyed that I got the answer_, Honora thought.

The Felix Felicis potion would go to whoever brewed the best Draught of Living Death potion that day, and Honora, Lawrence, and Kay all got to work. Potions was not Honora's best subject, but it was not her worst, either. She brewed a very decent Draught, but in the end the Felix Felicis went to Tom Riddle, of course.

Honora avoided looking at him when they left the classroom and instead linked arms with Kay and talked about hairstyles.

The rest of the first day's classes went well, for the most part, and Honora was relieved to discover that she was not behind her classmates in magical training. In fact, she stood out in Arithmancy and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Excellence in DADA was to be expected, of course; in 2112 Defence had evolved highly within the Shadow Kingdoms. If it had not, they would all be dead, victims of Lord Voldemort.

Honora had surprised Professor Merrythought by performing an exceedingly powerful non-verbal shielding spell, _Protego Maxima_. It was actually invented by Honora's own great-grandfather, Tutmos Crowley, and could protect against even Unforgivable curses for up to thirty seconds. Honora did not mention this property; she merely said it was enhanced version of the _Protego_ spell.

Tom Riddle had given her a hard stare after she demonstrated that spell.

Other than unwanted eye contact with frightening Heirs of Slytherin, it did not take Honora long to fall in love with Hogwarts. It was wonderful enough attending the legendary school with so many learning opportunities and a vast library. In addition, Honora became fast friends with Damaris and Kay, her house-mates and room-mates, and several of the Ravenclaw boys. Although there were school rules and curfews, Honora had more freedom of movement at Hogwarts than she had ever known in her life.

And then there was Hogsmeade. The first Hogsmeade weekend fell in October, and Honora got to wear normal clothes (skirt and blouse and long coat) and go _shopping_. She loved shopping from her time in Diagon Alley, and spent carefully with her Galleons, but was able to pick up loads of toffee fudge and Chocolate Frogs from Honeydukes, as well as a new set of quills in the Ravenclaw colours. She found herself at the centre of a raucous, cheerful group of fellow sixth-years at the Three Broomsticks pub later in the day, drinking hot butterbeer.

Relations between Ravenclaw and all the other houses were generally good, although the Slytherins were always problematic. The younger Slytherins were all right, but the older ones mostly belonged to Tom Riddle's clique. They had a certain dark glamour about them and the other students gave them wide berth. The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, however, had several nice students and it was a mix of houses at Honora's table in the Three Broomsticks.

Wedged between Ash and Damaris, Honora finished her second butterbeer and took the opportunity to taste some of her toffee fudge. The table was full of the latest gossip; Lawrence had recently broken up with his Slytherin girlfriend after a row, and was asking the table for light-hearted suggestions on how to avoid her hexes.

'Hex her first,' suggested Frank Finnigan, one of the Gryffindors.

'Or wear an invisibility cloak for the rest of the year,' said Kay.

'How about Honora's little enhanced _Protego_? That was pretty nice work,' said Lawrence. 'You should have seen Merrythought's face, he was duly impressed.'

'Thanks!' Honora said, grinning gaily at Lawrence. 'But _I_ think you should try to make amends with her. She's probably feeling lonely…you could offer to put up advertisements around the school to find her another boyfriend!' Laughter greeted this suggestion.

'I think Lawrence is the only boy in school brave enough to date a Slytherin,' added Damaris.

'Yeah, you should have been in Gryffindor, mate,' said Frank. 'Then you'd at least be on a winning Quidditch team!'

'Ooooh!' resounded around the table. 'Challenge!' someone called.

'Now, now,' said Lawrence. 'We'll just see about that. I'm captain this year, and I could hardly call myself a Ravenclaw if I didn't have a few clever tricks up my sleeve.'

This instigated a round of bets taken on who would win their first match. Honora supported Ravenclaw, of course, but not enough to bet on it. She did not understand Quidditch and went to matches for the social opportunity (and, she had to admit, Lawrence Carter looked awfully good in Quidditch robes).

Glancing over at the door, Honora saw a group of Slytherins walk in, Tom Riddle amongst them. A small quiet descended over the pub when they entered, and then the noise picked back up again when the group sat down at a table. Honora decided it was time to gather more information.

'What's with that Tom Riddle, anyway?' Honora asked Lawrence. 'He seems, um, intimidating.'

'Yeah, he's a fine Quidditch player, though,' Lawrence replied. 'But you're right, there's something about him that's a little off. Can't say what it is, exactly.'

Damaris overheard their conversation and added another interesting tidbit. 'I'm sure he'll be Head Boy next year,' she said. 'After all, he got that special award for services to the school last year. He's awfully clean-cut, for a Slytherin. I mean, after all that happened back in June…' she shook her head. 'Who would have guessed that a third-year would be behind it all? Rubeus Hagrid was his name, right?'

'Yes,' Lawrence said. 'Although none of us are very clear on what happened.'

'What are you all talking about?' Honora asked, pretending to be in the dark. She knew perfectly well what they were talking about: as the Heir of Slytherin, Tom Riddle had already opened the Chamber of Secrets and set a basilisk loose on the school, resulting in the death of a girl.

'Oh, it was terrible,' said Damaris. 'A monster was loose in the school, and a Hufflepuff girl named Myrtle died. They almost closed Hogwarts, until Riddle discovered that Hagrid was keeping the monster. They expelled Hagrid, and Riddle got the award. Although, Dumbledore kept Hagrid around. He works on the grounds now. I hardly ever see him.'

'Hmm,' said Honora. _What a devious little thing you are, Riddle_, she thought to herself. 'What was the monster?'

'We were never told the specifics,' said Lawrence. 'And school adjourned too soon for any more information to spread. For all that Tom Riddle is a bit creepy, he has to be somewhat of a good guy to solve the problem and keep the school open.'

Damaris nodded her head in agreement. 'He'll make a good Head Boy,' she said.

'How are the Head Boy and Head Girl chosen?' Honora asked.

'It's whoever has the highest marks in their class,' Lawrence explained. 'Along with qualities of leadership and responsibility. Naturally, Ravenclaws make up an unfair percentage of Heads,' he finished with a grin.

'Naturally,' said Honora. A plan was beginning to form in her mind. What if she became Head Girl next year? That would give her good access to Tom Riddle. She would have plenty of time and opportunity to take him down, and even make it look like some sort of unfortunate accident. Of course, Dippet would probably choose someone who had been at Hogwarts the entire time, someone who was already a prefect. But if Honora worked hard enough, distinguished herself as a leader…it could work. She was going to have to turn the charm on old Dippet.

She cackled gleefully to herself, causing Lawrence and Damaris to look at her. 'Uh, too much toffee,' she explained. But inside her own thoughts, she resolved to become Head Girl, no matter what it took.

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**A/N:** Re: my references to Honora's relative, Aleister Crowley: he was a real historical figure, a famous occultist of the Victorian era. He was highly ambitious, published many mystical texts, and was involved in several magick-based secret societies. Crowley was also, er, notorious for performing 'rituals' with his wife inside the Great Pyramid of Egypt. I have made that relation into a pure-blood family line here…after all, who knows?

Please review, I love to hear my readers' opinions! Thanks!


	7. Birth of a Strategy

**Author's Notes: **Big thanks to my reviewers, _LavenderBrown77, blueforest,_ and _Wren_. And they meet at last in this chapter – officially!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

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**Chapter 7**

**Birth of a Strategy**

As the first term wore on, Honora was increasingly glad for the extra tutelage Julius Talbot had given her back in Polaris. Honora was towards the top of all of her classes. This was evidenced in November, when Professor Slughorn detained her after Potions class.

'Dear, dear Miss Crowley,' he said, resting his hands on his protuberant belly as he relaxed in his chair. 'You are of the Aleister Crowley line, are you not?'

Honora nodded.

'Good, good. And quite a hand at Potions! Albus Dumbledore tells me you are just as brilliant in his Transfiguration class.'

'I, um…' Honora looked at her feet. She _was_ exceedingly proud of herself for her marks, but she made sure to keep a humble appearance in front of her professors. 'Thank you,' she finally said.

'I'm having a little get-together of some of my finest and most promising students on Friday evening. Dinner, drinks, good conversation…I do hope you can make it.'

'I would be delighted, Professor Slughorn!' Honora raised her eyes and gave him a dazzling smile.

'Excellent! My quarters at seven on Friday evening, then. I believe your Ravenclaw friend Damaris is coming, as well. Good family, the Turpins, her uncle Vasily is high up in the Ministry…' Slughorn said.

'I'll see you on Friday, then, Professor,' Honora said, making her exit with a slight curtsy. She did not mean to curtsy, but Slughorn seemed to make it appropriate.

Later, Honora asked Damaris about Slughorn's dinner party.

'Oh, yes, the Slug Club. I was wondering when he was going to get around to inviting you. He surrounds himself with anyone who has potential…magic, or social climbing, or both,' Damaris laughed. 'And you're beautiful, as well. It's no wonder.'

'I see,' said Honora. 'What am I supposed to wear, then?'

'I usually dress to impress on those occasions. Not because it's required, but it makes my Potions grade go up. Slughorn likes to feel that he's surrounded by important and elegant people. Quite entertaining, and if you just flatter his ego a little bit, he can make life easier for you. The dinners are fun, actually.'

'Good,' Honora said, 'we can show up together!'

Friday evening rolled around, and Honora set her dark red hair in flattering waves and put on some makeup for the Slug Club. She loved getting dressed up, and she and Damaris danced around their dormitory room getting ready. Kay rolled her eyes at them as she worked on a Herbology essay. It was so refreshing to have new clothes, and Honora was getting into the fashions of the 1940s. She wore one of her only nice garments, a dark blue dress with small light blue polka dots and a matching belt, and pearl earrings. She touched her family tree locket for luck as she put on her pearls; they reminded her of her grandmother.

Slughorn's quarters were decorated like a tent, with blue and green and silver panels and a rather garish gold chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Honora and Damaris walked in, laughing, and gave sly little waves to the people at the table they already knew. There was Nestor Nicodemus, the Hufflepuff whose father was the Greek Minister of Magic, and a friendly Gryffindor girl named Portia Whimsey.

Honora's eyes flicked over the room and she saw Tom Riddle standing in a corner with two other Slytherin boys. The skinny one with the hooked nose was called Avery, she knew; the other she was not sure of. Honora noticed that Riddle was wearing a large, rather clunky gold ring with a black stone in it. He stood with serene confidence, intimidating and authoritative.

Squaring her shoulders, Honora vowed to take this room by storm. 'Professor Slughorn!' she said with the smile still on her face. 'Damaris and I have arrived.'

'Miss Crowley and Miss Turpin, what a pleasure. You both look high and mighty indeed…boys, you'd better watch out for these two!' Slughorn chuckled at himself and gestured for them to sit down. 'Now as soon as Miss True and Mr. Herrera arrive, we can begin.'

As he said the words, the door opened again and two more students walked in.

'Brilliant! Shall we sit?' Slughorn gestured to the long table.

Honora sat down and was disconcerted to find herself directly across from Tom Riddle. _I will NOT be afraid, I will NOT be afraid_, she told herself sternly. It was hard to remember that Riddle had not made the transformation to Lord Voldemort quite yet, although from the sounds of it he was getting close. Honora raised her eyes to squarely meet Riddle's.

Close up, she saw that his eyes were a deep blue colour, so dark they were nearly purple. They were expressionless. Instead of glaring, Honora made herself smile innocently at him. To her surprise, Riddle smiled back. It would have been charming had the smile reached his eyes.

'Honora Crowley,' Riddle said, inclining his head in acknowledgment of her.

'And you are…?' Honora raised her eyebrows haughtily, pretending to be ignorant of his identity.

'Tom Riddle,' he replied, in a conversational voice as smooth as silk. 'It's nice to meet you. I hope you're finding Hogwarts enjoyable.'

His overwhelming politeness made Honora feel boorish at her reaction to him. 'Yes,' she said with a blush, forcing her mouth into a courteous smile. 'It's been wonderful so far. Thank you for your concern.'

Riddle nodded at her, apparently finished with the pleasantries, and turned away toward his Slytherin pal on his left.

Slughorn began the dinner with a long-winded toast. The various courses were delightful, as was the conversation. At least half of the Slug Club was there because of their academic prowess. The other half, who merely had familial connections, usually had good chat, at least. The talk turned to cutting-edge magical theories. Nestor Nicodemus mentioned that his father had spoken of new theories of Divination coming about after the re-discovery of the Oracle of Delphi.

'I should have a chat with Kaige about it,' Nestor said, referring to the Divination teacher.

'Personally, I find Divination a bore,' said Avery the Slytherin. Honora did not like his manner. 'Who can tell the future, anyway?'

'Perhaps the future is only a probability,' said Honora, deciding to speak up and add to the discussion. 'There may be a strong chance that something will happen, but only if someone does not actively change it.'

'Interesting,' Portia Whimsey said. 'Free will or fate? I believe in free will.'

'And the rest of you?' Slughorn said, following the conversation with beady eyes darting around. 'Tom, what do you think?'

'The best wizard makes his own fate,' Tom Riddle said.

'Oh, but interference can come in the most unexpected ways,' Honora said boldly. Laughter bubbled behind her eyes. 'Sometimes a wizard does something with a certain intention, but it all goes wrong.'

Riddle raised one sceptical eyebrow at her. 'Such as?' he said.

Honora realised she had no idea what she was talking about. _Speaking too soon…trying to get attention again_, she mentally scolded herself. 'Such as…' she paused awkwardly. Not knowing what else to do, she made something up. 'My grandmother told me a story of a very powerful Egyptian wizard long ago. He attempted a spell that would guarantee his own invincibility.' Honora levelled her gaze on Riddle. 'And the spell went…_hor_ribly awry.'

'Awry how?' Riddle asked calmly. She could tell his interest was piqued. Fortunately Honora was good at make-believe stories.

'He charmed a crystal, which he put on an un-removable gold necklace. When he wore the necklace, no one could touch him, or harm him in any way. It made him essentially immortal to danger,' Honora said. She had been told a fairy tale story like this as a child; not a word of it was true, but that did not matter, as long as she could make her point.

'Then, something happened he did not count on. He was on a wizard's ship, sailing from Egypt to Rome, and got into a duel. In the course of the duel, he lost his wand, went overboard, and sank to the bottom of an undersea chasm, due to the heavy weight of the crystal. However, because of the necklace, he could not drown…but without his wand, he had no way to reach the surface again. He remains there, bored, alone, and lost forever, in the deep cold.' Honora finished her story with a sip of wine. 'And _that_, Tom Riddle, was unexpected.'

Riddle stared at her with narrowed eyes, looking slightly taken aback. The rest of the table was silent until Slughorn broke in.

'Well, what an extraordinary story, Miss Crowley! A lesson to all of us, shall we say? Now, Miss Whimsey, was that fate or free will for that poor Egyptian wizard?'

'It was his free will to try to be invincible,' said Portia. 'So it was his fault!'

The debate continued into the night, but Riddle did not say anything more.

That night, as Honora was getting ready for bed, she reflected on Tom Riddle/Lord Voldemort. Things were not going very well; she hardly knew him at all. She still did not know how far along he had come in turning truly evil. He had already opened the Chamber of Secrets. And, according to McGonagall's book, Tom had already killed his father and grandparents that past summer. He was a murderer. But had he split his soul into pieces yet?

Also according to the book, the large black-and-gold ring Riddle wore had belonged to his mother's family. He had stolen it off his uncle, Morfin Gaunt, at the same time he killed his relatives. The worst case scenario was that he already had made Horcruxes out of both his diary and Slytherin's ring. The best case scenario was that he was a mere triple-murderer and thief, but had not yet housed his soul in inanimate objects.

Honora sighed. There had to be a way to kill Tom Riddle and come out of it smelling like a rose. The problem was, Honora was not sure she was capable of producing a Killing Curse. There was always poison, but that was near impossible at Hogwarts. Everyone ate in the Great Hall. _Besides, Riddle probably has one of his little Slytherins taste his food for him._ She knew for a fact Riddle would not be so stupid as to consume an anonymous gift of food without testing it first. Maybe if she was Head Girl, she would have better access. _But then I might be the only person with an opportunity to murder him. I would be an automatic suspect_.

As it was, Honora was merely the 'new girl'; everyone knew her name, but she had not yet distinguished herself as outstanding. It was all very perplexing, and one thing was for certain: Honora needed to get closer to Riddle, and to do that, she needed to be Head Girl.

* * *

Honora fell asleep quickly the night after the Slug Club, with her mind overworked and anxious. The next morning in Transfiguration, she was absentmindedly turning a yellow canary into a pumpkin and back again when a brilliant idea hit her. A do-good, get-attention-for-herself, leadership and initiative brilliant idea. She felt as though a spontaneous torch had flared on inside her mind, solving her problems.

'Kay. Damaris.' She turned to her friends. 'I have a genius plan.'

Damaris laughed at her, brown eyes twinkling. 'And what is that?'

'We have to hear it to believe it,' Kay added.

'What would you think about a wizard's charity ball? All benefits to a scholarship fund for wizard orphans. We could have dancing, and an auction, and all kinds of things!' Honora whispered frantically, her eyes flashing with excitement. It was contagious.

Damaris and Kay lit up. 'A ball! What a good idea!' Damaris whispered back.

'And for orphans,' Kay said, 'like yourself.'

'Let's talk about it at lunchtime, then! Before Dumbledore takes points,' said Damaris. Honora nodded in agreement. Professor Dumbledore was always nice and helpful to her, even if he did favour the Gryffindors a bit. However, he took points from people who did not pay attention.

Honora sat back, smiling to herself with satisfaction. This was it. She would be famously popular at Hogwarts if she could pull off a fabulous social event. And the professors would be eating out of her hand if she made it a charity function. At lunch, Honora explained her idea in more detail to a rapt group of Ravenclaws. As she spoke, she got clearer in her own mind as to what she wanted; Honora was a verbal person and talking things out always helped.

'So. I suggest we hold the ball at the beginning of next term…say, Valentine's Day!' Excited nods all around. 'Let's see…what should we call it…' The other Ravenclaws stared at Honora. It was as though the gears whirring in her head were visible. 'How about the Salvation Ball?'

'That's good,' said Kay.

'And…OH!' Honora exclaimed loudly. 'Since it's on Valentines…we can have the _girls_ ask the _boys_ as dates! Reverse, like!'

'YES!' Lawrence and Ash said at once. The boys seemed much more enthusiastic all of a sudden.

'We could decorate using red poppies,' Kay suggested, 'like Remembrance Day, from the First World War.' Others looked at her blankly. 'Muggle war, everyone.'

'Oh!' collectively.

'Poppies are good,' Damaris agreed. 'They're one of my favourite flowers.'

Honora grinned. 'Right. I'm going to Dippet as soon as possible, and try to set up a meeting for the prefects.'

Headmaster Dippet was easy to convince. Honora appeared at his office with her over-prepared proposal, ready to say all kinds of things to convince Dippet of its merits. However, once she got into his large, bland office, Dippet had merely listened for a moment.

'Very well, Miss Crowley, it sounds fine and good. I put you in charge. Have anyone you want for the committee, and be sure to send me a permission form for the Great Hall at least a month before the event.' He had waved her off with one pudgy hand, saying he had many important things to attend to. Honora suspected he just did not want to be too bothered, which was fine by her.

Damaris suggested that Honora start by presenting her idea for the dance at the next prefect's meeting. After speaking with the Head Boy, Court Aiken (a Ravenclaw, naturally), Honora was given permission to speak to the prefects. She thought out the details the night before, lying on her stomach in her dormitory, chewing on the end of her quill.

The red-and-white themed Salvation Ball, would, as Kay suggested, be decorated with poppies. Honora had in her mind a field of snow, covered with red poppy petals. Tragic and beautiful, all at once. She wanted to avoid hearts and romance, even if was on Valentine's Day; the charity scholarship was a serious topic in itself.

The floor of the Great Hall would be covered in white fog, the ceiling charmed as a sky full of red and white stars. Garlands of poppies would be strung, as well as a wishing-fountain with floating flowers. Tickets would be sold, and an auction of some kind, all for a scholarship fund to supply magical orphans with a full education at Hogwarts. Of course, to make things more light-hearted, it was a 'girls ask the boys' dance.

With a whoosh of horror, Honora realised that if girls had to find dates for the ball, that meant _she_ would have to find a date for herself. 'Damn,' she muttered to herself. She had not considered that. Who in the world was she going to take? Lawrence Carter would probably go with her, and he was tall and strapping and a Quidditch captain to boot. However, she also thought maybe she had an obligation to get to know Tom Riddle better.

Honora shivered involuntarily at the thought of spending the evening as Lord Voldemort's date. It made her feel cold and flushed at the same time. Tom Riddle was evil _and_ attractive. It was very unsettling. Besides, Tom would probably decline her invitation. He was so handsome that half the girls in school would want to go with him. Most likely that seductive Slytherin girl, Olive Hornby, would ask him straight away.

'Bah,' Honora said out loud. 'Who cares, anyway. I'd rather stay away from him and enjoy my evening, thank you very much.'

The Salvation Ball idea was accepted with much enthusiasm at the prefect's meeting; everyone loved a dance. Damaris was on the committee, of course, along with the three other Ravenclaw prefects. Two Hufflepuffs and three Gryffindors (including Portia Whimsey from the Slug Club) added their names. Then, to Honora's surprise, Tom Riddle spoke up.

'Count me in,' he said, smiling pleasantly.

She ducked her head as she wrote Riddle's name down, so as to hide her expression of triumph. Slytherins were not known for charitable instincts, yet her idea had intrigued Riddle enough to make him volunteer. He would have no choice but to get to know her, perchance even trust her… Everything was going according to plan. She remembered from her briefing (so far long ago, so far in the future) that Riddle himself had grown up in the orphanage. He'd taken the bait and now she could keep a good eye on him. Her mouth twisted in a smile; oh, how she was clever.

It was decided that Honora and Damaris would sit at a table during the lunch hour for the next few days, signing up anyone else who wanted to be on the committee. In all, the idea was tremendously popular. Honora felt like she had clouds beneath her feet, so proud of herself was she. It felt good to be making waves at Hogwarts.

As she gathered her things after the meeting, she felt someone standing in front of her. She looked up; it was Riddle.

'Why are you really doing this, Crowley?' he asked quietly. 'Getting popularity points from the teachers?'

Honora scowled at him. Of course, that was exactly what she was doing. However, she was not about to tell him that. 'I am an orphan myself, Riddle. I know what it's like, and I think it's only fair I use my good fortune to try to help others like me.'

A strange expression flickered across his face. 'You're an orphan?'

'Yes.' It was the truth, after all. 'My parents were killed, in Europe. I myself have been a refugee until this year, when Professor Dumbledore was kind enough to help me.'

'Oh, yes, Dumbledore. He is quite the do-gooder, isn't he.' Riddle looked like he had a bad taste in his mouth.

Honora decided to bait him with a little sarcasm. 'Well, I suppose you have a wonderful family and perfect life, so I guess you couldn't possibly understand about being an orphan,' she said, narrowing her eyes at him. Waiting to see what he would tell her.

She was not disappointed. A flash of anger crossed Riddle's normally calm features. 'That's how much you know,' he spat. 'Try growing up in a dirty _Muggle_ orphanage.'

Honora felt a little frightened. She did not want to deal with an angry future Dark Lord. She ploughed ahead in spite of herself. 'What do you mean? Your parents are dead, too?'

'My mother—' he stopped. 'Yes. My parents are dead.' Riddle absently twirled the black ring on his finger, then composed his face once more. 'I'll help with the publicity,' he said, gesturing down at Honora's scattered parchment. 'You know, tickets and the like.' He started for the door.

'Oh…okay,' Honora said. 'Riddle?' He turned. 'Thank you.'

Riddle did not respond, and left the room with a swish of his black robes.


	8. Dumbledore's Advice

**Author's Notes:** I HAD to put a dance in the story! I know, every TR story has one, but that's because they're just so much fun, especially for back in the 1940s. And at least Honora is putting hers on for selfish reasons, instead of the 'good of the school' or some nonsense. I know from personal experience that many charity events are only held to give their attendees a sense of smug self-satisfaction. Also, an 'athame' (pronounced ath-a-may) is a term used for a ritual knife.

Special thanks to _The Enchanted Teakettle_, _LavenderBrown77_, _Wren_, _Tiamat Warcraft_, and _DarthStriker_ for your reviews!

Enjoy the little awkward moments in this chapter. I know I would find it hard to keep my cool if Tom Riddle was around.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

**Dumbledore's Advice**

The next day after the prefects' meeting, word spread throughout the school about the Salvation Ball. The Great Hall was buzzing with excitement, and within the first ten minutes of the lunch hour the committee was filled. Many other students told Honora that they wanted to help set up. Her face hurt from smiling by the end of the day.

The entire student body was talking about Honora Crowley, the president of the Salvation Ball committee. Dumbledore had praised her idea in class, and Slughorn had given her extra points for Ravenclaw just for stirring her potion in a 'unique' way. Certainly even Tom Riddle had not managed to gain such instant recognition.

_It really is brilliant_, thought Honora. _Not only is this doing wonders for me personally, but it is actually fun to organise AND it will genuinely help people in need_. In her mind, it just went to show that even selfish motives could be used for good and moral purposes.

Her self-congratulations did not last long. Honora was in the Ravenclaw common room, playing Exploding Snap with Lawrence and Ash, when Kay St. John came in, clutching her books to her chest.

'Hey, Kay!' Honora said. Kay pretended not to hear her, and instead went straight up to their dormitories. 'What's eating her?' Honora asked the boys. Both shrugged.

At dinner that evening, Honora was sitting with Damaris and scanning over her papers for the ball. When Kay came in the Great Hall, she chose a seat on the other end of the table, as far away from Honora and Damaris as possible. Honora frowned. Was Kay mad at her? She scanned the committee members' list; Kay was not on it.

'Damaris?'

'Hmm?'

'Why didn't Kay want to be on the committee?'

Damaris looked stumped. 'Uh, I don't know!'

'She's been acting weird. She won't talk to me.'

'Really? She's acting fine to me,' said Damaris, watching Honora with her brown eyes. 'Maybe she felt left out of the planning or something.' Damaris turned back to her pork chops.

Honora tried to speak with Kay that night before bed, but Kay just said 'I'm tired,' and closed her curtains with a Silencing charm. Honora could not imagine what the trouble was, until the morning. She heard Kay tearfully whispering to Willow McLeod, one of their other dorm-mates.

'She's just so full of herself,' Kay was saying. 'She gets this idea and then just takes off with it, never even asking me if I wanted to help. She's come between me and Damaris with her joking and her popularity and her stupid _ball_. It's just because she's a Crowley, some pure-blood who thinks she can do anything.'

'I'm sure she just didn't realise,' Willow said softly, trying to calm Kay down. Honora's eyes were wide as she continued to listen.

'Of course she did!' Kay kept crying. 'Did she ask you? After all, you're a half-blood.'

'Kay, she might be many things, but I don't think Honora is a snob at all. Why don't you talk to her?'

'I don't have anything to say to her,' Kay sniffed. There was the noise of a trunk opening, and rummaging.

Honora sat back on her bed, guilt washing over her. She _had_ been arrogant, she realised. She had ignored Kay in her excitement over her idea for the ball, and had indeed forgotten to ask Kay to be on the committee. _I should have done that first thing_, she thought morosely. Honora also did not realise what effect her coming to Hogwarts might have on two friends such as Kay and Damaris. She did not want to be accused of coming between them.

As she fixed her hair for the day, Honora gazed into the mirror at herself, filled with some self-loathing. By trying to be popular and well-liked by many, she had forgotten about one of her first and closest friends. Honora vowed to keep things in perspective from now on. 'You need to be taken down a notch, Honora Crowley,' she whispered to herself.

'You tell them, dear!' the mirror replied, thinking she was talking about someone else.

Honora returned to her room and made a list before going down to breakfast.

It said:

_Things I will do:_

_Make it up to Kay; repair friendship!_

_Be nice and kind to everyone_

_Throw a fabulous Salvation Ball, for the right reasons_

_Get close to Tom Riddle and prevent him from becoming an evil megalomaniac. Create viable plan tokill him_ (she chewed her quill over this one).

_Remember my purpose here: to save the future. _

Suitably re-motivated, Honora whispered '_Incendio_' to burn the parchment, then '_Evanesco_' to clean up the ashes.

At breakfast, Honora spotted Kay's brown-haired head down the end of the table. Honora deliberately walked over to where Kay was sitting by herself and sat down across from her. It was time to eat some humble pie.

'We need to talk,' Honora said.

Kay looked at her coldly. 'What about?'

'I know you're angry with me,' said Honora, 'and I think I know why.'

Kay merely raised her eyebrows.

Honora took a breath. 'I'm really sorry about the ball. I should have asked you to be on the committee right away; after all, the red poppy decorations were your idea! I've been too caught up in it, and that's my fault.' Kay just stared at her, not making things any easier. 'And…I just wanted to say that it's nothing to do with you, it's just me being stupid. And I'm sorry.' Honora looked hopefully at Kay.

'Oh, it's all right,' Kay finally said. 'It's fine.'

'Really?' Honora almost squealed. 'I'm so glad!' She reached across the table and grasped Kay's hands, who seemed surprised. 'And I really, really want you on the committee. You're indispensable, I don't want to be involved in this Salvation Ball without you.'

This made Kay grin. She shrugged her shoulders in acquiescence. 'Okay!' she said. 'I'm sorry too, for not talking to you.'

'All is forgiven!' Honora said dramatically. 'Now, let's find Damaris and the three of us get to work. We have mid-term exams coming up.' Honora was relieved beyond words; she hated interpersonal conflict. It was best to get it out in the open, like ripping off a bandage.

As the winter wore on, and with the Kay-Damaris-Honora friendship intact, life settled into a satisfying mix of studies and fun. Honora was getting Outstanding marks in all of her classes except Herbology (definitely _not_ her best subject). She spent a great deal of spare time with her friends in the library, the favourite spot for Ravenclaws.

One bright, cold day, Honora decided it was never too early to study for exams, and inspired herself to get ahead in Arithmancy. She sat with Kay at a dark wood table, writing down the references she would need.

Glancing about her, she noticed Riddle, four tables over, his head bent over a large book and absorbed in his work. The table next to him was occupied entirely by a group of silly girls, who kept tossing flirtatious looks at him, which he blatantly ignored. Honora rolled her eyes. _Lord Voldemort has a fan club_, she thought acrimoniously.

'I'll be right back,' Honora said to Kay, standing up from the table and smoothing out her uniform skirt. She sauntered delicately through the stacks of books, looking for the section on Advanced Arithmancy theory. With a glare of frustration, she found the book she was looking for, 'Theoretical Metaphysics of Arithmancy', on the very top shelf. With a quick glance around, she saw no ladders or step-stools to help her out.

She brought her wand out and flicked up at the book. '_Wingardium Leviosa,_' she commanded. The text floated into the air...along with about ten other heavy books.

'Ugh,' said Honora. She did not know how to get them all back without dropping them.

'Need some help?' someone said.

Honora turned to find Tom Riddle standing, arms crossed, superior expression written on his face.

Distracted by him, she lowered her wand, and all ten heavy books crashed to the ground, one hitting Honora straight on top of the head. 'Ow!' she exclaimed, rubbing her head, feeling a hot blush work up her cheeks. To make matters worse, she stepped over the books, and her foot caught, causing her to stumble and fall forward slightly. She felt completely humiliated, especially because she knew Riddle must be enjoying watching her make a fool of herself.

'Careful,' he said, smirking. 'Looks like you're in over your head, Crowley.'

'I assure you, I'm not,' she replied, pushing her now-mussed hair out of her face, gathering her poise. With effort, she recovered her normal grace and stood tall. Honora was not normally a clumsy person, but for some reason she was left grasping for composure when Riddle was around. She hated that Riddle could stand there looking so innocent, so harmless, when she knew a monster lurked within.

She wished there was something to do that would make _him_ unhinged.

'Here,' Riddle said, waving his wand silently. All the books flew back to their places, except for 'Theoretical Metaphysics of Arithmancy,' which he bent down and handed to her.

'Thank you,' Honora said, raising her eyebrows, again surprised by his politeness.

A giggle issued forth from behind the next bookshelf. Honora peered through a gap between the books, and saw a group of girls standing in a cluster, spying on Riddle. A little surprised, Honora even recognised her dorm-mate Willow amongst them. With a roll of her eyes, she turned to him. 'You're very popular, aren't you.'

He smiled self-deprecatingly, lifting his hands in surrender. 'I'm sure I'm undeserving of it.'

'False modesty does not become you, Riddle.'

He looked resentful all of a sudden. 'Fine. See if I help you out again.'

'I don't need your help, or anything else,' Honora said quickly.

'Except with the ball committee.'

'Oh, and I'm sure you're doing that for selfless reasons!' Honora clutched her large textbook close to her. 'I am grateful for your assistance just now. But, if you'll excuse me, I have many things to do.' She pushed past him, refusing to meet his eye. The girls in the next aisle giggled harder.

'You're welcome!' Riddle's voice called after her.

Planning for the ball went on unabated; Honora delegated the various tasks amongst the committee members. Decorations, music, food, tickets, and budget were all being taken care of. They named the new scholarship fund the 'Felix and Adaire Crowley Memorial Fund,' after Honora's parents. It would provide any magical orphan a full-ride scholarship at Hogwarts, and any additional magical training undertaken after graduation, plus a stipend for books, clothes, and spending money.

The committee of fifteen students met every two weeks, on Tuesday evenings after dinner, in the Transfiguration classroom. Honora loved being in charge of meetings, and presided with benevolent sternness. Being a group leader gave her a sense of self-confidence. One night, in early December, the group sat about discussing the fundraising and beneficiaries of the charity fund.

'Well, Hogwarts already has a fund for poor people,' said one of the Hufflepuffs, a boy named Xandy Middleton, who was well-intentioned but too wealthy to have a good grip on reality. 'Seems to me this whole thing's been done before.'

Honora rolled her eyes. _Then why are you helping with the ball?_ she wanted to ask. 'Yes, Hogwarts does have a fund to help those who cannot pay their fees. But I've checked with Dumbledore on this,' (which was not true, but she knew the information anyway) 'and that fund is very limited, covering only books and tuition. This Scholarship fund will provide for wizarding orphans in every respect, in school and beyond. Besides, there's no such thing as too much generosity,' Honora smiled around the table.

Tom Riddle was sitting at the end of the row, farthest from Honora, but when he cleared his throat to speak, the entire committee waited for him. It was frightening how much respect he could command, with just a look.

'What about summers?' Riddle said.

Honora looked at him, puzzled. 'How do you mean?'

'Well, if someone's an orphan, they don't necessarily have a home for the summer. Perhaps there could be a provision to stay over at Hogwarts, or in Hogsmeade.'

Honora blinked in surprise and stared at Riddle. _That was uncharacteristically sensitive_, she thought. 'I think…that's a fabulous idea,' she said candidly.

Riddle's upper lip curled slightly, a half-smile that was unattractive. 'I'm delighted that you think so, dear leader.' There seemed to be an undertone of resentment or sarcasm in his statement.

'Good!' Honora replied brightly, unwilling to let him get to her. She wrote down the summer home proposal with utmost care.

Honora could easily see how Riddle had fooled so many people. He was generally charming, polite, and an interesting conversationalist. The teachers adored him (with the exception of Dumbledore), and he always played up the 'poor handsome brilliant orphan' card. Yet he kept a strict control over his Slytherin groupies; Honora got the impression that he kept them in line through fear. The other students, like Lawrence and Damaris, had mixed feelings about him; Riddle's dark side lurked beneath a veneer of absolute goodness. No amount of charm could completely disguise it.

However, there was nothing about Riddle that anyone could point to as _wrong_, exactly, and even Honora had to admit he had been helpful and ingenious while designing the tickets, working out the budget, and charming the advertisement posters to appear throughout the school.

During their last Hogsmeade weekend before the holidays, Honora bought small gifts for all of her friends, and got a few in return. Personalised parchment stationary from Damaris; a new set of blue velvet gloves from Kay; and Lawrence had kindly sent her a box of rose-shaped chocolates. At that, Honora began to suspect he might fancy her a little bit. Not that she minded; fit Lawrence with his glossy chestnut-brown hair was definitely fanciable.

A few days before Christmas, Hogwarts emptied out and was left with only a fraction of its students, including Honora (she wanted to keep an eye on Riddle). She took the opportunity to turn in some Transfiguration extra credit and have a chat with Professor Dumbledore. After her quarrel with Kay, and her bumpy attempts to get to know Riddle, Honora was feeling in need of a confidence boost. She needed some assurance that she was, in fact, going about her mission the right way.

'Would you like a lemon drop, Miss Crowley?' Dumbledore asked her when she sat down in his office. 'They are really my favourite.'

'Sure,' said Honora, taking one of the funny little sweets. 'Thanks.'

'How has your year been going? You certainly are one of the brightest students in your class. You should be proud of that.'

'I love it here,' said Honora passionately. 'This is like…what I always imagined it should be. I feel as though I'm living a legend.'

Dumbledore looked at her curiously. 'Yes, Hogwarts is a special place, indeed.'

For some reason, Honora felt like she could open up to Dumbledore and tell him what she really felt. 'When I lost my parents—and afterwards, too—I was living in a very dismal place. I rarely ever saw the sky, and never got to leave Po- I mean, the cave where we were hiding. It was all I had ever known. It's just that sometimes I feel that it's wrong for me to be loving it here so much,' she finished, unsure how to put it into words.

'Miss Crowley, I'm sure your parents would be very glad to see you happy. Life is not meant to be lived in a depressing fashion. You should not feel guilty for taking your opportunities with relish. Salsa, if you like,' Dumbledore's eyes seemed to wink at her.

Honora smiled at him. 'That's what it is, I suppose. But is it wrong to be _glad_ at the way my life has turned out? I mean, I've lost people so close to me, and it does not seem fair that I get to go on and do so much with my life. And to be so…ambitious, I suppose.'

'Survivor's guilt is never productive, Miss Crowley. And I do not see you misusing your opportunities here. You have made an impression on this school, a positive one. I would encourage you to keep doing exactly what you are doing. You will accomplish it all just fine,' he said with a smile.

Honora started. _He couldn't know, could he?_ She decided it was just a coincidence of speech. 'Thank you, sir. And just so you know, we all love your class. Well, maybe not the Slytherins. But the Ravenclaws do.' A little flattery never hurt.

'I'm very glad,' said Dumbledore. He ushered her out of his office with three more lemon drops and Honora felt better after talking with him. Even thought Dumbledore did not know she was a time-traveller, he still managed to say the right, encouraging thing. Honora sighed. Maybe if she stayed focused, Dumbledore would never have to fight against Voldemort in the future.

At the Christmas feast, Honora discovered that Tom Riddle had not stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays after all. She questioned a fourth-year Slytherin (bullied, more like) into telling her that Riddle was spending the holidays at Cornelius Nott's family estate. This annoyed Honora. _Great. He's probably learning all kinds of Dark magic_.

To her further dismay, an illicit trip to the Restricted Section of the library had given Honora no creative ideas on how to commit homicide. She was frustrated that Julius Talbot had sent her back in time with instructions to 'stop' Tom Riddle, but no specific details as to _how_ she might do that.

Honora's mind started to wander. If she had to murder Riddle, and get caught at it, perhaps she should make it dramatic. _Graduation,_ she thought. _He'll be up on the stage, making some Head Boy speech, and I'll creep up behind him with a razor-sharp athame… the crowd will gasp… Dippet will faint, Dumbledore will shout 'NO!', and Riddle will be dead…_Grossed out by her thoughts, Honora sighed and placed her head on top of the stack of dusty books.

'I guess it's Azkaban for me,' she said out loud to the empty library.

* * *

**A/N:** I love reviews, so tell me what you thought! Thanks!

And, a note about the pacing of this story: The Riddle moments have been little ones so far. This is deliberate. I hate stories that jump the gun too soon, and have a twisted psycho like Riddle fall 'instantly' in love with whoever. Judging from my reviews, most of you agree with me that Riddle should be kept in-character and the story realistic (with adequate character development) so I am glad for that! But for those of you waiting for intense Tom, rest assured it will happen. Think of it like a circle: it will get tighter and tighter up until the end. Next update on Saturday!


	9. Allure

**Author's Notes:** Big thanks to _LavenderBrown77, blueforest, Wren_, _The Enchanted Teakettle, _and_ All-American Vampire_, for your reviews! It makes me hugely happy to see new reviews in my inbox, I dance around like an idiot, people make fun of me…it's great!

Never tickle a sleeping dragon. And never become too relaxed around Tom Riddle. Two important lessons for the New Year! Happy 2006, everyone.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

**Allure**

With no future Dark Lord to spy on, Honora spent a lot of time reading during the Christmas holidays. Soon she was several weeks ahead in her classes, and even attempted to understand some of the things in Herbology that had always confused her. When Damaris and Kay returned in January, Honora felt refreshed, revitalized, and ready to take on the school, again.

Damaris had learned some cunning beauty charms over the holidays from her Aunt Lucinda, and the girls determined to use them before the ball. 'The prefect's bathroom will be perfect,' said Damaris. 'We can use the tub for the mud bath, and the sauna for the skin-wrap, and then exfoliation, then dip…'

'I don't know what you're talking about, but it sounds painful,' said Kay.

'Beauty is pain,' intoned Honora, philosophically.

'Maybe we can get the house-elves to give us manicures and pedicures!' Damaris suggested.

'No!' Kay looked shocked. 'I don't want a house-elf with nail varnish anywhere near me, thank you!' Honora and Damaris laughed. 'But now, girls, the real question is…who will we ask to the ball? It's already January!' Kay said more seriously.

'Do you think Lawrence Carter would say yes if I asked him?' Damaris asked. 'He's so handsome.'

'I think he would!' Kay replied. 'You two would look very nice together.'

Honora did not say anything at first. She wished Damaris had not mentioned Lawrence; now she, Honora, could hardly go asking him. It was disappointing. Honora seemed to be trapping herself into asking Tom Riddle to the dance. The idea was not as intimidating as it would have been four months ago; she and Riddle were on polite terms, acknowledged one another in the halls, settled into the safety of acquaintanceship borne from the same classes, the same ball committee. It made him seem less offensive.

'Lawrence would be a good one for you, Damaris,' Honora said reluctantly. 'He would.'

'Now I just have to work up the nerve!' Damaris giggled. 'How about you two?'

'I thought I would ask John Parrish,' said Kay. 'You know, the Hufflepuff Seeker.'

'Oooh, he's cute,' said Honora. 'I bet he would be honoured to go with a gorgeous Ravenclaw.'

'And what about you, Honora? Who have you set your sights on?' Damaris asked.

'I honestly don't know,' Honora replied. 'I'll, uh, think about it later.'

She avoided thinking about her potential date for several weeks. She knew what she should do, but procrastinated asking Tom Riddle, and when the last Friday in January rolled around, it was time for the final official meeting of the Salvation Ball committee. It was all coming together well. The Hufflepuffs in charge of food had concocted an elegant menu; Honora glanced over it approvingly. Butterfly shrimp, cocktail-sized apple chicken sausages, samosas…shortbread cookies, cherry ices, and strawberry tarts…it made Honora hungry just thinking about it. Red punch would be served, along with the usual butterbeer, pumpkin juice, and plum wine.

The tickets had gone on sale right after the holidays, open to all students fourth-year and above. Nearly everyone had purchased tickets. With the food and beverages supplied by the school, and the Great Hall free, it looked they were going to make a nice profit. A famous wizarding swing-time band, the Floating Strings, had been hired for the dance music, at a much reduced cost since the charity aspect was good for the band's publicity.

Arrangements were made for the silent auction. Quality Quidditch Supplies of London had donated a top-of-the-line Comet 101 broom, expected to be popular with the boys. There was also an exquisite piece of sculpture: a floating model of the solar system made of pure gold, found in an Egyptian tomb and donated by Nestor Nicodemus's father. Other, smaller items included a specially-brewed custom perfume by 'Scentsations of Diagon Alley' and a set of tarot cards that had once belonged to a Divination professor at Hogwarts.

Honora announced the lists for decoration helpers, including the multitude of Quidditch-boy volunteers. She also passed along the news from Dumbledore that anyone helping set up decorations would be awarded five house points each.

'That should get the Slytherins out and helping,' Damaris joked.

The meeting adjourned with everyone clear as to their jobs, and psyched up for Hogwarts' biggest social event in years. And Honora still did not have a date. She noticed Tom Riddle giving an order to the only other Slytherin on the committee, a fifth-year non-prefect girl named April Gaius, and then he gathered his folder to leave. With her heart in her throat, Honora walked up to Tom as casually as she could.

It was wrong that someone so despicable could be so attractive.

'Er, Riddle,' she said. 'So the tickets are almost gone?'

'That's what I said,' Tom replied coolly.

'Good, good…' Honora clenched her fist behind her back. This was not going well. 'So, who asked you to be their date?'

Tom's dark blue eyes looked straight into her, as if he knew exactly what she was after. _Dammit_. 'Olive Hornby,' he said, his mouth quirking up. 'And you?'

'Oh! Umm…' Honora noticed Jamie Whitcomb, the other sixth-year Ravenclaw prefect with Damaris, walking out the door. She knew for a fact he did not have a date yet. 'Jamie!' she said quickly. 'I'm going with Jamie.'

Tom looked bemused. 'Are you, now?'

'Yes,' Honora said, a little more strongly. 'And thank you again for your help on the committee.' She was eager to end this conversation. 'I'm sure all of our fellow orphans will be glad for it, someday.'

He nodded silently.

'Well, uh, bye!' Honora flashed a falsely confident smile and darted out the door.

She ran down the corridor to catch up with Jamie Whitcomb. 'Jamie!' she said, falling into step with him. 'Say, you don't happen to have a date, do you?'

Jamie turned to her. He was a tall whip of a boy, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. He was quiet, and nice, and highly studious. 'No, I don't,' he replied.

'Well…' Honora smiled warmly up at him, 'Would you consider taking me?'

'All right!' Jamie nodded readily. 'That would be good.'

Honora tried not to show her abject relief. One less thing to worry about. 'I'm so glad! We'll have a wonderful time, I'm sure.' In fact, she was sure they would. Jamie was a good kid and he would not be possessive of her. As part of the committee, he would understand Honora's commitment to keep the ball running smoothly.

She also felt overly glad that she had not botched up inviting Tom Riddle too badly; at least she had not dropped books on her own head or done something equally as clumsy. Her self-assurance must be increasing.

To her vast annoyance, Slughorn set an essay due the day before the ball, on the evolution of medical potions. Researching the history of Sleeping Draught and Skele-Gro was really the last thing Honora wanted to do, especially since the Salvation Ball was the only thing the higher forms could talk about. Well, the higher form girls, anyway.

Lawrence Carter had said yes to Damaris's invitation, and John Parrish was going with Kay. The girls were over the moon. Honora really was pleased for them. Of course, she did not get a fluttery heart over Jamie Whitcomb.

_At least you have a date_, she thought to herself. Poor Ambrosia Kipley had asked three boys, all of whom had turned her down. _That's because she's ugly and mean and has no friends_, Honora thought. Then she chastised herself for having such a nasty, if honest, thought. All the social pressure must be getting to her.

Two mornings before the great event, Honora was picking at her breakfast in the Great Hall. She had put off finishing her Potions essay, and still had eight more inches of parchment to write. There was all the last minute decision-making and organising for the ball. To top it all, Honora's dress robes had _not_ arrived from the seamstress. She was beginning to feel panicked.

Kay rubbed her back reassuringly. 'Don't worry, they'll get here,' she said. 'I'm sure Gladrags is doing a lot for the ball. They know how important it is. I heard that three extra seamstresses were hired for this week.'

'What if they don't?' Honora said redundantly.

'They will! And you'll get everything else done, too. If you quit worrying, that is, and drink some tea.'

Honora smiled weakly. Tea did help. With a palpitation in her stomach, she heard a fluttering and looked up: the post had arrived. Her eyes frantically searched the owls for any packages. With a yelp of relief, she caught her brown package marked 'Dress Robes: Miss Honora Crowley.'

'See! What did I tell you?' Kay laughed at her.

'Oooh, your robes!' Damaris leaned over Honora's shoulder. 'Well, let's have a look, then.'

'Not here!' Honora said. 'I don't want anyone seeing.'

'What about me?' Ash Wynn poked his head their way. He was taking their dorm-mate, Willow McLeod, to the ball. It had caused some amusement; Honora had dubbed them the 'trees', Ash and Willow.

'You'll see them at the ball,' Honora said stubbornly. She gulped the rest of her tea, scalding her throat slightly. 'Come on, girls.'

They raced back up to Ravenclaw Tower. Honora felt energised by the prospect of new clothes. Most of her garments were so practical; with the exception of a few dresses, she had to work to make herself fashionable. Like any girl, the idea of wearing a beautiful dress was enough to send her spinning.

The three girls burst into their room, startling Willow, who was still getting ready for the day.

'Her robes arrived!' Damaris explained.

'Oh! Let me see!' Willow said.

'Patience, patience!' yelled Honora. Then with a squeal she dived at the package and tore open the paper. A spill of champagne-coloured satin fell out.

'Ahh! Look at it!' Damaris shrieked.

With a flourish, Honora held up the dress. Oohs and ahhs echoed around her. It was an elegant one-shoulder draped sheath with detailed gold and copper beaded accents on the shoulder and hem. The left shoulder held the dress up and then fell down the back.

'Behold the Grecian glory!' Honora announced, with a joyful laugh. 'Men, kneel at our feet and weep for mercy.'

'Oh, we are going to _kill!_' Damaris giggled loudly. Willow grabbed Kay and began dancing around the room in imitation of a wild waltz. Honora shot bubbles from her wand. It was a merry time, for being eight in the morning.

'I wonder who Tom Riddle is taking to the dance,' sighed Willow, flopping down onto her bed. 'I think he's just…the cat's meow!'

'He's taking Olive Hornby,' Honora said curtly, rolling her eyes. 'Why do you like him so much?'

'Oh, but he's such a catch!' Willow sat up, enthused to discuss her crush. 'Clever, handsome, and there's something about him that's so, I don't know how to describe it…'

'Evil?' muttered Honora.

'Charismatic,' decided Willow. She shrugged. 'Oh, well. He's unattainable, besides.'

Honora busied herself by hanging her beautiful dress on her canopy bed.

Once she had her dress robes, Honora felt motivated to finish Slughorn's blasted essay. She skived off morning Herbology, and wrote hard for an hour and a half about the discovery of powdered moonstone as an ingredient in the Draught of Peace as a treatment for anxiety disorders. The night before the ball, Honora, Damaris, Kay, and several fifth-year girls commandeered the prefect's bathroom for a highly relaxing spa treatment.

Saturday dawned cold and clear, and Honora was up at seven-thirty. She scrubbed her face clean, not wanting to put on any makeup until the ball. She threw on a jumper already ruined by a Potions explosion, and tied her hair in a loose ponytail. Then Honora jumped on Damaris and Kay and made a trumpet-like sound with her hand.

'Rise and shine, ladies! Time to transform this school!' In anticipation of the ball, the house elves would be serving buffet breakfast and lunch in the individual house common rooms. Everyone else would be downstairs.

Honora marched into the Great Hall, pumping with energy. The boys and girls who had volunteered to help had mostly arrived by nine, and started transfiguring the long dining tables into smaller round tables that sat up to ten people, dotting the edges of the hall. The Herbology professor brought in carts of red poppies grown especially for the occasion, which were charmed into garlands and swagged along the sides for flowery effect. Even the reluctant help of the curmudgeonly caretaker, Apollyon Pringle, was enlisted to haul in an old stone fountain from an unused courtyard. The fountain was frosted in white and filled with water, for making wishes.

Honora occupied herself by working on the charms for the ceiling, to turn the stars red and white. It was difficult work, requiring a great deal of sustained concentration. In a room filled with working, laughing, talking students, this was a challenge. House-elves scurried around under her feet, and she kept dodging moving furniture and floating candles, meanwhile keeping a sharp eye on her volunteer workers.

'Danny, those chairs go over there!' 'The torches need to be red and gold, yes I _know_ they're Gryffindor colours but they provide the best lighting!' 'Make sure the food tables are fully ready for the house-elves…' Honora shook her head in frustration, refocusing herself on the ceiling. It was only about halfway done.

Suddenly an arm cinched her about the waist, and pulled her backwards. 'Watch yourself, there!'

With a gasp of shock, Honora watched, wide-eyed, as a huge, heavy table swung through the air at her, so close to her head she could feel a breeze as it whizzed past. Turning to her rescuer, she found herself nose to nose with Tom Riddle, who quickly dropped his arm from around her. The thought of '_Maybe he's not so bad'_ floated, unbidden, through Honora's mind.

'Pay more attention,' Riddle said, holding his spine stiffly straight, and clasping his hands behind his back in a gesture that was oddly self-conscious.

'Right, thanks,' said Honora. To break the tension, she looked toward John Parrish, the culprit. 'For Merlin's sake, John! Learn your Levitation charms before you kill somebody.'

'Sorry, Honora!' John called.

She waved a hand, signifying it was alright. 'I'm in your debt,' she turned to Riddle, wishing it had been someone else to pull her out of the way.

'I'll have to make sure you repay me some time,' Riddle said, deadpan.

'We'll see,' Honora said with a smirk.

The hours flew by, Honora skipped lunch and before she knew it, the room was coming together beautifully. The Floating Strings arrived, and they set up their instruments behind a red and gold screen appropriated from Gryffindor House. The buffet table was set up and awaited the appearance of food from the kitchens. The items up for silent auction were in their display cases. The ball started at eight o'clock.

At six, Honora swallowed a dose of Invigoration Draught and looked around the Great Hall one last time. Satisfied, she turned to go back to Ravenclaw Tower and get ready.

On her way out, she saw Riddle giving stern directions to Court Aiken, who would be taking tickets at the door. Honora stopped for a moment.

'Looks like we're ready, then,' she said to Riddle.

'It appears so,' he agreed.

Honora smiled up at him. 'Don't be surprised if you don't recognise me in two hours,' she said, thinking of her new dress.

'Oh, I'm sure I'll recognise you,' Riddle replied. A hint of a smile flared in the shady depths of his eyes.

'See you soon, then,' Honora turned away with a coy little wave over her shoulder.

She smiled as she walked away, pleased that she and Tom Riddle were becoming on such friendly terms. She was almost becoming accustomed to him. A hundred small, innocuous interactions had created an expectation of normality that a hidden part of her knew was dangerous. With every polite greeting, every nod of the head, her guard lowered itself a bit more. It was happening in spite of herself; her inner knowledge of Riddle's black soul did not match up with his outer behaviour, lulling her into complacency and near-admiration of him.

His smooth confidence, cool and unflappable; his obvious intellectual brilliance; his striking good looks; all combined to create an exquisite masquerade. Riddle was undoubtedly attractive, until Honora forcibly reminded herself that he was Lord Voldemort in disguise. _Whoever said the Devil was beautiful must have known Tom Riddle_, she thought to herself with an inner twist of fascinated dread.

Picking up her pace, she dashed toward Ravenclaw and arrived in the common room. Wolfing down a ham and cheese sandwich, then showering and drying her hair with her wand, it was seven by the time Honora walked into her dormitory.

'You better catch up!' Willow said, applying several coats of mascara to her eyelashes.

'She's been busy, haven't you, Honora?' Kay said. Kay was already dressed in lovely light blue robes of diaphanous chiffon.

'Oh my goodness, yes,' Honora collapsed onto her bed, still in her bathrobe. Then she shot back up. 'But thank heavens for Invigoration Draught.' She got out a box and began applying her own makeup. She powdered her face, lined her eyes with kohl, added mascara, and continued to tweak until she was satisfied.

Damaris flicked one of her curlers at Honora, disturbing her concentration.

'Hey!' she protested.

'Watch this,' Damaris said. She disappeared behind her bed curtains and then reappeared, wearing a stunning dress of peach crepe.

'Ooh, la la!' Honora said, impressed. With a sigh, she realised that whatever chance she had once had with Lawrence Carter was likely to go out the window tonight.

'Damaris, you look like a perfect peach,' Kay giggled.

'Kee-hee!' Damaris popped her foot up and posed with her hands.

Honora kept up with her beautification routine, calmed by its ritual. Everything was coming together, and soon her triumphant ball would commence.


	10. Dance With Danger

**Author's Notes:** Okay I was going to update this later, but I decided for a New Year's present I would post two chapters, and give you all the Salvation Ball tonight. Enjoy! Plus, a shiny gold star to anyone who can find the reference in here to a current controversy in the music industry…I couldn't resist!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

**Dance with Danger**

At seven-forty five, Honora's burnished auburn hair was set up in elegant waves and her makeup perfected. It was time for the dress. She took it carefully from its place in her trunk and slipped it over her head, dropping her bathrobe as she did so. She felt the satin glide into place over her skin.

The mirror itself sighed when Honora appeared before it. She barely recognised herself. The champagne colour of the gown set off her Egyptian-heritage skin to golden perfection, and matched the tones in her red hair. The satin clung to her curves and the tiny beads on the shoulder glistened under the light. Slowly, Honora put in simple gold drop earrings and gently placed her high-heeled shoes on her feet. Then, she turned around.

Her friends were staring at her.

Then they remembered how good they _all_ looked, and the girls started grinning.

'Well, what are we waiting for?' Honora asked. She put both arms in the air. 'Let's go!'

Honora had asked Jamie to meet her in the entrance hall, by the stairs, so they could go into the Great Hall together. She descended the stone steps slowly to a hall crowded with chattering students. Her eyes scanned the crowd. As if tugged by a string, she met a pair of dark indigo eyes watching her.

_Tom Riddle_. Honora felt a little flip in her stomach. For some reason, she was glad she looked beautiful. She let her lips curve into a smile. Tom's face did not change. He merely watched her walk down the stairs, until she broke their gaze and found Jamie Whitcomb standing with a group of nervous-looking Ravenclaw boys. Honora grabbed Jamie's arm and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Eyes wide, he looked at her and tried to say something, but stuttered instead.

'Hello, Jamie. It looks like a good turnout, doesn't it?' she smiled, trying to put him at ease. Jamie's friends were all grinning at each other.

'Uh, um, yes, yes, it does,' Jamie managed. 'Er, shall we?' he gestured to the doors.

'Sure,' Honora said. They joined up with Damaris and Lawrence coming into the Great Hall. Even though she had spent all day working on it, Honora still drew a breath when she saw its transformation. It was exactly as she had pictured it: the essence of a snow white field covered in poppies. She grinned and let out a little squeak in excitement as she clasped Damaris's unoccupied hand.

The Floating Strings played an upbeat interlude as the guests filtered into the ballroom. Even the castle ghosts had shown up; Honora could see Ravenclaw's Grey Lady trying unsuccessfully to flirt with Slytherin's Bloody Baron.

Honora's feet were hopping. She longed to dance. Honora was grateful that was one social thing that she had learned back in Polaris. Of course, the 1940s dances were a little different, but she and the other girls had spent some time brushing up their skills before the ball and Honora felt she had the general hang of it.

Grabbing a chocolate peppermint patty from the delectable buffet, Honora, Damaris and their dates procured fluted glasses of red punch and stood to the side, watching their schoolmates come in. Most were resplendent. The boys wore dashing dress robes in swaths of cut black; the girls were in every colour gown imaginable. Honora glowered when she saw Riddle walk in the door with Olive Hornby clutching his arm. Olive had dark hair and red lips. She felt annoyed at Olive's presence, although she was not sure why. It was just typical that an evil, manipulative person like Tom Riddle would go the ball with an evil, manipulative girl (_tramp!_) like Olive Hornby.

Honora watched as Riddle's clique appeared behind him. Hook-nosed Ian Avery and his other friend, a dark, saturnine boy named Raoul Lestrange, were accompanied by Lynx and Lamb Gilder, the blonde twins of Slytherin house. The girls were famous for being pure-blood snobs. Making a sour face, Honora turned back to her friends.

'I'm ready to dance! How about you, Jamie?'

He turned a little ashen at the thought. 'Ye-yes?' he said. Honora rolled her eyes. It was clear why Jamie Whitcomb was not in Gryffindor. Well, she would have at least one dance with him. She knew Jamie would not mind if she ditched him by the food table afterwards.

Most of the guests were in the Great Hall when Headmaster Dippet stood up at the head table. This reminded Honora that she was supposed to give a speech. 'Damn,' she muttered. She handed her drink to Jamie and squirmed her way to the front of the crowd.

Dippet cleared his throat. 'Ahem. May I have your attention, please?' Gradually the room quieted down. 'Here to introduce Hogwarts' Salvation Ball is the organiser and president of the committee, Miss Honora Crowley.' The crowd applauded as Honora stepped up to the podium.

Honora looked out over a sea of excited, expectant faces. She gulped down a momentary wave of nausea and just started talking.

'Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, fellow classmates,' she began her memorised speech. 'Welcome to the Salvation Ball, a charity event for the members of our wizarding society most in need. I would like to thank you all for your wonderful support in coming tonight. May I direct your attention to the items up for silent auction,' she waved a hand, 'and ask you all to remember that many of us, myself included, would not be here were it not for the continuing generosity of Hogwarts students and staff.' Honora sent a smile over at Albus Dumbledore. 'Now, please, enjoy yourselves! I wish you all a night to remember!' She finished her talk, breathing in a sigh of utmost relief that was lost in the thundering applause.

Honora knew the students were cheering more for the opportunity to dance the night away than anything else. She peeked her head around to the band and gave them a wave to start up.

After that, Jamie Whitcomb swept her into the first dance. Once he got going, Honora decided, Jamie was not too bad a dancer, even if he was a bit tall and gangly. It was all in good fun, and Honora flashed grins at all her friends as they circled the dance floor. She laughed out loud when she saw Headmaster Dippet dancing with a much-taller-than-him Divination Professor Victoria Kaige.

Lawrence graced her with a dance, then Ash, then Frank Finnigan, then several other sixth- and seventh-years she did not know as well. Honora whirled around and around the dance floor, breathless and light-headed with the spirit of the party. After a particularly energetic two-step with Nestor Nicodemus, Honora collapsed into a chair alongside Kay and Damaris. They immediately broke into a detailed analysis of the evening thus far.

'Oh, Lawrence is such a sweetheart!' Damaris gushed. 'He's been holding my hand all night. I'm falling for him, I tell you!'

'You're showing everyone how it's done, Damaris,' Honora winked at her.

'Everyone is talking about your speech, Honora,' Kay said. 'I heard Drakkis say that you would make a good Minister of Magic! Can you imagine!'

They all laughed at this. 'Minister of Magic, indeed!' Honora joked. 'Well, if people are saying that, they must not have seen how terrifically nervous I was.'

'Ugh, look at the Slytherins,' Damaris said contemptuously. The Slytherin cabal stood on the other side of the hall, grouped together in black glamour. The ones who were not on the dance floor were regarding the rest of the room with studied disdain. That prickle of annoyance swept through Honora yet again, as she watched Riddle and Hornby dancing. Riddle moved very gracefully; she could tell he was as skilled at dancing as he was at everything else he did.

'Well. Let's just ignore them,' Honora huffed. 'We are ten times more sparkling in personality, anyway.'

'Yah,' Kay said. 'Although you have to admit, they're scary. Those horrible twins are always hissing nasty words at me in the halls.'

'You mean they call you a—you know, a—'

'A _mudblood_,' Kay said darkly.

'They have no class,' Honora agreed. 'They're probably just jealous that you're more clever than they are put together.'

'That's not the half of it,' Damaris put her head in conspiratorially. 'One night I was doing prefect duties with one of the Gryffindors, and we ran into two little fourth-year snakes. They were talking about the older boys, you know, Nott and Lestrange and Rosier and all the rest of them that follow Riddle around. Apparently they're all very into the Dark Arts. They call themselves _Death Eaters_.'

Honora felt ice run down her spine. Death Eaters. So they were already getting organised. Tom Riddle was getting them organised. This was not good news.

'That's sick,' Honora said viciously. 'I hope they all drop dead of an African haemorrhagic curse.'

Damaris and Kay stared at her sudden vitriol. 'Well, maybe it's just a boys' club kind of thing. You know how Slytherins are,' Damaris said.

'I know how they are. Anyway, let's not let them ruin our night. We have some dancing left to do!' Honora sprung up suddenly. She wanted to forget about Death Eaters. Downing her punch with gusto, Honora latched on to her hapless date, Jamie, who happened to be walking past.

'How about another spin?' Honora suggested brightly.

'Sure!' he said.

The band was just starting a hit by Glenn Miller. Jamie had relaxed with the help of the potent punch and he whipped Honora around the floor. As she got into the music, Honora forced her worries out of her mind and resolved to enjoy every remaining minute of the night. After all, it was her party.

Spinning, twirling, dipping around, surrounded by friends, Honora's eyes gleamed up into Jamie's face and at the beauty of the Great Hall. A whirl of peach went by; Damaris and Lawrence were holding fast to each other. Honora laughed gaily. Then, in the middle of dance step, Jamie stopped abruptly, causing Honora's shoes to skid on the wood floor.

Tom Riddle had tapped him on the shoulder.

'May I?' Riddle asked, gesturing toward Honora. Jamie, not knowing any better, nodded amicably.

Tom stepped forward, tall and debonair in his black dress robes. His jet black hair was perfectly placed, his pale face slightly flushed. Honora felt undressed as his eyes flickered up and down her body.

'You don't mind, do you?' he asked her, holding out his hand.

'No, no, not at all,' she stammered. Slowly she stepped into his arms for the next dance. The band ended the Glenn Miller number and went into a slower song; Frank Sinatra's 'Witchcraft', of all things. Not many people knew that Sinatra was really a wizard.

Tom's hand went around her waist and he pulled Honora close to him. The thin material of her dress left little to the imagination. _Stay calm, stay calm_, Honora vowed to herself, raising her head with an air of confidence. However, her vow was proving difficult; she could already feel her heart pounding against her ribcage. Tom smelled distractingly good, a clean masculine scent that reminded her of the outdoors.

He swung her easily into the dance, leading with precision and skill. Honora followed him wordlessly, but her mind was racing. _I am dancing with Tom Riddle. No, I am dancing with Lord Voldemort_. The thought made her breath hitch in fear. She was no more than two inches away from the most evil dark wizard in history. It made Honora feel helpless, as though she could do no more with herself than breathe, in and out.

Tom looked down at her, his eyes as dark as the midnight sky above him. They had an almost predatory gleam. His face was unreadable as usual, but Honora knew something was going on inside his head. She waited for him to say something as the leisurely, happy song played on.

'Your idea was a success, Honora, truly,' Tom said in a smooth voice.

Honora met his eyes. _A compliment? From him?_ Well, better than an insult. 'Thank you,' she said. 'I'm very happy with it.'

'All of this should secure your place as Head Girl, shouldn't it?'

_Oh. He was onto her again_. Honora decided to be up front with him. 'Yes, it should,' she said flatly. Then she let her lips play into a calculating smile. 'And your help was noted as well. Of course, I'm sure there is no one in this school to stand up to _your_ ambitions to be Head Boy.'

'You're right,' he said. 'Although it is not my ambition, but my talent that will get me the Head Boy position.' His calm arrogance was unnerving.

'Full of ourselves tonight, Riddle?' Honora peered up to him.

'You tell me, Crowley.'

'Full of you? Not quite,' she blurted, before she could stop herself. A blush crept up her cheeks. All that dancing had clearly addled her brain. 'Or ever,' she finished, trying to rectify the situation.

Some emotion flashed across Tom's face before he allowed himself a tiny smile. 'Surely you don't believe Slytherins are all bad? In fact, with your heritage and clear ambition, I'm surprised you're not one of us,'

'That's what everyone keeps saying,' Honora muttered. 'However, unlike you, I do not believe the Dark Arts are ever necessary. And I believe in love, and light, and things you will never understand!'

Tom narrowed his eyes at her. 'And you know nothing about the beauty of the Dark Arts,' he said contemptuously, as he twirled her around. 'If you think that the rest of the world will just step out of its way for you because you believe in _love_,' he said with a sneer, 'then you are more naïve than I thought.'

Honora felt a flush of anger rising out of her belly. 'At least I'm not so twisted as to call myself a _Death Eater_,' she shot back.

Tom's eyes widened for a split second, then his mask was back in place. Honora felt like a complete idiot. Was she crazy? Provoking him would not get her anywhere…

To Honora's relief, the slow song ended. Then to her dismay, Tom did not release her.

'Let me go,' she hissed.

'Not yet,' he said in a low voice.

The band went into a sultry tango. That was the last straw. The music started, light at first, then growing dark and tense. Tom gripped her tighter.

'I _said_, let me go!' she protested again.

'NO,' he growled back. He threw her into a spin, then wrapped her back in quickly. Honora found herself pressed hard up against him. His arms kept her securely in place as they danced, taking steps backwards and then forwards together.

'How do you know about Death Eaters?' His voice was soft and dangerous.

'I have ears,' she replied, trying to keep from quivering. His hand was warm and steady against the small of her back.

'Not good enough,' Tom whispered. He was getting angry with her. 'You had better be careful, _Honora_.' He emphasised her name with dark meaning.

'Careful of what, _Tom?_' Honora's eyes blazed in icy fury as she looked up at him. She was angry at him, too; angry for what he, as Lord Voldemort, would do to her family and to the world. 'You know,' she measured her words with deliberation, 'If _you_ aren't careful, you might find that you have _met your match_, Tom Riddle.'

He scoffed out loud. His grip tightened on her hand, her wrist, making her writhe slightly in pain.

'You're hurting me,' she gasped.

Honora could have sworn she saw something pass through his eyes, something red and very dangerous.

Again she tried to twist away from him. 'Do you enjoy causing pain, Riddle?' her voice hoarse with fear. 'I think you're a sadistic bastard.'

He merely looked down at her as if she were an inconsequential insect. 'I'm not a sadist; I just don't care.'

The flame of anger in Honora's breast reached her mouth once more, causing her to say more reckless things. 'Then your complete lack of normal emotion will be your downfall. I'll personally make certain of it.'

'Don't attempt to challenge me. You're sure to regret it,' Tom said. The music trilled intensely, and he threw her into a precipitous dip toward the floor. Honora clung onto him for dear life, certain that he would drop her. Then he yanked her back up. Honora let out a small sigh as she slid back up against him, placing her hand on his chest to steady herself. To her shock, she could feel his heart beating as fast as hers.

With a final minor-key note, the tango ended. Tom and Honora stood there glaring at each other, breathing hard. Honora was afraid to move; her knees felt like jelly. Slowly Tom backed away from her, his face a sinister blank once again. Furious with herself for letting him get to her, Honora turned her head away from him and pushed through the crowd, back to the table where Lawrence, Damaris, and Kay were sitting.

'Honora!' Lawrence said. 'Saw you dancing pretty close with a Slytherin…' he teased.

Honora did not laugh. Damaris and Kay glanced at each other.

'Did I say something?' Lawrence said.

Kay spoke up. 'Honora, that was—I mean, wow.'

'It looked awfully intense,' Damaris added.

'You could say that,' Honora slipped into a chair and grabbed a large glass of wine from a house-elf laden with a drinks tray. 'Riddle is intolerable.'

'That's not really what I meant,' said Damaris. 'I mean, you two looked like you were about to…I don't know, kiss or something.'

'What?' Honora sputtered. 'How dare you suggest that! I would _never_, not in a hundred million years! I hate Tom Riddle!'

'Whoa,' Lawrence said, looking at her with a slightly scared look on his face. 'I hope I never get on your bad side.'

'If you say so, Honora, she didn't mean anything by it,' Kay broke in.

'I know. Sorry, Damaris, I guess I'm just tired.' Honora set down her wine. There were several songs left in the evening but Honora no longer felt like dancing. She could not help but notice that Tom did not dance any more, either.

For everyone else, the Salvation Ball was a huge success. A great cheer issued up at the end of the last song, and Hogwarts was in high spirits at the end of the evening. Back in Ravenclaw's dormitories, Honora slipped out of her dress and into bed, glad that it was all over. The next day she would settle the accounts for the silent auction and finish the budget. The house elves would clean the Great Hall overnight, and soon things would be back to normal.

With a sigh of relief, Honora sank into her pillows and fell asleep.

She slept through breakfast the next day, and after a lunch of sandwiches and pumpkin juice, Honora felt energised enough to go through the budget. Portia helped her count the Galleons from the tickets and with a mounting sense of excitement they went through the auction slips.

Each of the items for auction had slips of parchment with a name and bid on them, creating a magical contract to purchase the item if it were the highest bid. The custom-made perfume got 100 Galleons; the tarot cards got 75. With increasing joy, the high bids for the Comet 101 broom kept going up; Honora let out a squeal when she saw the highest bid for 535 Galleons.

'Look at this, Portia!' she said, 'we are making a fortune!'

'The ticket sales alone have given us 1200 Galleons,' Portia grinned back.

'Now, the big fish…' Honora poured over the pile of slips for the Egyptian solar system artwork. She knew there were students from wealthy families at Hogwarts, so she was hoping they had tried to out-do each other. She was not disappointed when she found the highest bid.

Honora gazed at it in wonder. 'Oh my… 6,000 GALLEONS!' Honora shouted and started dancing. Portia leaped up in shock.

'Are you serious! Who on earth bid that much money?'

'Marwan Patil, you know, the Gryffindor from India? I think his family owns, well, India!' Honora could not stop smiling. 'Oh, I have Nestor Nicodemus and his father to thank today…I can't believe it!'

She sought out Nestor, who in his typical Hufflepuff way shuffled his feet and grinned sheepishly, saying it was nothing and that he was just glad to help out. Honora gave him a spontaneous hug in return.

That night, she had to get up in front of the student body at dinner _again_ to announce the results of the auction. She had already notified the auction winners, and there was yet another roar of applause from the student body when Honora announced that the 'Felix and Adaire Crowley Memorial Fund' now had approximately 8,000 Galleons in its new account at Gringotts Bank. Honora thanked everyone for their support and sat down amid more congratulations from her fellow Ravenclaws.

She could not help but notice that Olive Hornby was glaring at her from the Slytherin table.

After the excitement of the Salvation Ball, winter turned into spring in a dull blur. Honora noted her 'old' birthday on February 17, but did not tell anyone. The world of Polaris and Shadow Kingdoms and her grandmother was gone. In fact, Honora had been so busy since the New Year that she had not even thought about her old life very much. Only seeing Tom Riddle reminded her of her mission.

With that, Honora felt an overwhelming sense of defeat and anger at herself. She had blown it at the ball, said too much, let her temper run away with her. Now, Tom Riddle was wary of her, if not considering her an outright enemy. She and Riddle had been literally dancing around each other since the ball; they never spoke, never made eye contact. It was not a situation that would help Honora find out anything else about him.

_Now is the time for strategic retreat_, she thought to herself one night in early March, unable to sleep. Honora stretched herself out on the blue velvet sofa in the Ravenclaw common room. The dying firelight barely illuminated the gold seashell locket clutched in her hands. She clicked it open, gazing at the detailed filigree. Tiny faces smiled and waved at her. The names were too small to read in the dim light, but it made Honora feel nice to see them; she felt like they were all rooting for her.

She brushed her fingers over the picture of her great-great-grandmother, Fleur Delacour. Her name and face zoomed up larger; the locket's unique qualities were always fun to play with. With interest, Honora watched as Fleur preened and tossed her golden hair, her delicate features sculpted to perfection, white teeth smiling.

Honora felt briefly annoyed that she even had to worry about preventing the rise of Lord Voldemort. It seemed unfair that this was all up to her. The rest of her friends were completely oblivious; Honora found it all too easy to swing into a normal way of life without agonising over future Dark Lords. She had been in this world for over seven months, and she still did not have a clue what to do about Lord Voldemort.

She sat upright, thinking. What happened in 1944? She tried to remember the book by Minerva McGonagall. He had presumably only started making Horcruxes after the murders of his relatives; but that could be right now. He had stolen the black-and-gold ring; the question was, had he made a Horcrux out of it yet? And if not, how would Honora stop him from doing so? It all led her back to the same conclusion: she would have to murder him.

After how frightening he had been at the Salvation Ball, Honora did not feel too bad about it. But she was not a murdering type by nature; she could not think of a way to kill Tom Riddle without implicating herself.

'Oh, I'll think about it tomorrow,' she huffed to herself. With a sigh of frustration, she got up from the common room sofa and went back to bed.

* * *

**A/N:** I know, JKR has said the Death Eaters were originally called the 'Knights of Walpurgis'…but it's not technically in canon so I haven't included it here. It's a bit of creative liberty, since someone from the 22nd century would recognise them so much more, and besides 'Death Eaters' sound cooler. 


	11. Strength and Retreat

**Author's Notes:** Thanks to my reviewers, _Tiamat Warcraft, The Enchanted Teakettle, blueforest, lilith, All-American Vampire, _and_ LavenderBrown77_. And the gold star goes to _blueforest_, for first pointing out Lynx and Lamb – yes, they are the neo-Nazi singer twins, (think Mary Kate and Ashley gone BAD!) and my parallel between pure-blood snobbery and racism.

You all will recognize direct HBP events in this chapter…and the beginnings of changes in the timeline. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

* * *

**Chapter 12**

**Strength and Retreat**

March turned into April. For most of her spare time, Honora was in the library with Kay, Damaris, Willow, and sometimes the Gryffindor girls. They had a table claimed as 'theirs', next to the Charms section, in a sunny spot. Apparation lessons were also being held, although Honora did not attend them since she already knew how to Apparate. The first test was held in Hogsmeade in late April.

Kay was exceedingly nervous about it, and seemed convinced of her own failure. Honora could not exactly tell Kay her own story of Apparating from Siberia under immense pressure, but she did say that it was not hard if you concentrated enough.

'Come on, you're a Ravenclaw! You'll probably show up everyone else,' Damaris added encouragingly. That was not quite the case; Kay did fail the test when she left the heel of her shoe behind.

Damaris again invited Honora to stay with the Turpins at their country home for the holidays, and this time Honora accepted. Damaris would be having several parties over the summer, and Honora did not really have anywhere else to stay. Kay would join them for a month, as well.

Professor Dumbledore came to her in May with a preliminary list of that year's beneficiaries of the Crowley Memorial Scholarship Fund. The bulk of the money was in Gringotts, gathering interest, and Honora and Dumbledore had been made joint trustees. Honora saw that three wizarding orphans would be invited to Hogwarts for the 1944-45 school year; all three were refugees from Grindelwald. It filled her with a warm, fuzzy feeling that she was responsible for the whole thing.

Honora also had a good feeling about her chances for Head Girl. She had the highest marks in Ravenclaw, and that was saying something. Only in Herbology did she have an 'Exceeds Expectations' mark; the rest were still 'Outstanding.' If exams went well, Dippet was sure to make her Head Girl.

Slughorn held another dinner in May. He invited Honora, of course; she was now one of his favourite students. Damaris attended, as well. Kay had sent them off with a roll of her eyes and thinly-disguised snort. Conversation that night was mainly an argument between Portia Whimsey and Antonin Dolohov over the benefits and drawbacks of Ministry regulation of underage magic. Slughorn had provoked the argument and then sat back with a satisfied air as his students duked it out.

Honora, who was of age herself, did not care one way or the other, and instead concentrated on her Yorkshire pudding, whispering funny comments to Damaris under her breath.

After dinner, however, things got serious when Tom Riddle and the Slytherins followed Slughorn back to his office for a look at Slughorn's custom-ordered serpent themed cauldron. Honora decided to seize her opportunity for a little intelligence-gathering, and as she walked down the corridor with Damaris, she quickly made up an excuse about having left her favourite quill behind.

'Go on without me,' Honora said, 'I'll catch up in a minute.'

'Okay, if you're sure,' Damaris said with a shrug.

Honora waited until everyone from the dinner was out of sight, then crept back down the Potions corridor toward Slughorn's office. The door was slightly ajar, and a crack of light shone through from the inside. Quietly, Honora brought her face closer. She could just barely see into the office, while keeping out of the light.

The Slytherin boys were lounged around in chairs or on the floor, while Slughorn intoned about something or other. Riddle was sitting in casual elegance, his long fingers draping from the arm of the chair. The large black and gold ring was clearly visible. She could see Dolohov and his other friend, Lestrange, on either side. Their talk seemed harmless, and Slughorn was being his usual benevolent name-dropping self. Tom Riddle was clearly Slughorn's favourite student, probably ever.

After thirty minutes of crouching outside the door, Honora had a major cramp in her leg and was starting to feel bored and very tired. The noise of chair-scraping suddenly began; the company of Slytherins was getting ready to leave. She could hear Slughorn chuckling happily. He had _definitely_ had at least six glasses of wine.

Suddenly in a panic that she would be discovered, Honora stood up straight and looked around for a hiding-place. She did not want to contemplate the consequences, if a bunch of Slytherin boys should discover her eavesdropping. The corridor was dark, and Honora tiptoed quickly to the next door recessed into the stone wall. She pressed herself back into it, hoping that she was correct in thinking the Slytherin dungeon was in the other direction.

Honora was right, luckily; the boys filed out of the office, talking and joshing. She peeked her head in their direction. Riddle had not come out. When the other Slytherins were safely away, she crept back towards the door.

'—wanted to ask you something.' Riddle was saying, deferential, hesitant, trusting.

'Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away,' she heard Slughorn.

'Sir, I wondered what you know about…about Horcruxes,' Riddle said, his tone a perfect blend of humility and caution.

_Horcruxes!_ Honora bit back a gasp. Riddle was trying to find out about them. A thousand thoughts flew through her head: he must not have made any Horcruxes yet, even though he had already killed at least three people; he was trying to find out about Horcruxes, how they work and how to make one (or seven!)…Honora had to stop it. Slughorn was clearly tipsy and was about to tell him something very, very bad.

Honora braced herself. Then she knocked on Slughorn's door, three times, forcefully, interrupting their conversation.

Silence drifted from inside the office. Then she heard Slughorn say 'Er, yes? Come in, come in.'

Honora pushed open the door and took two steps into the office. When she saw Riddle's face, she wanted to run away screaming. His black glare pierced through her, his flawless features marred by a look of incandescent hate or anger or frustration, or a mix of all three. She could feel waves of malevolence coming off him, pulsing through the air. _Oh my God, he's going to kill me, right here, right now,_' she thought frantically.

Slughorn, on the other hand, looked relieved to see her. 'Honora, my dear! How nice to see you! Come in,' he boomed.

She took another hesitant step forward. What excuse could she give for coming to Slughorn's office? Her mind raced through the dinner conversation, trying to come up with something. All the while, Tom's eyes were boring into her. She could see the muscles of his jaw clenched. Apparently he had been working up Slughorn into telling him about Horcruxes, and Honora had completely ruined his little moment.

'I, um, I was just…' Honora fished around.

'Mmm?' Slughorn tilted his rotund face at her.

'I had a question for you at dinner, but I didn't get a chance to ask. What with Portia, and Dolohov, and their arguing, and whatnot…' Honora kept stalling, then she came up with something. 'I was wondering about the, um, the antidote to mild love potions! Yes! See, my friend, I think she may have been given a love potion by this fifth-year who is _obsessed_ with her, and I'm worried about her health.'

'Love potion, eh?' Slughorn placed his hands together. He seemed happy to wax eloquent on love potions instead of Horcruxes. 'Well, the most obvious sign is the vacant expression…' he went on, explaining.

Honora nodded as he went, pretending to be intensely interested.

Tom Riddle was going to kill her.

'Does that help, Miss Crowley?' Slughorn finished.

'Oh, yes, it does, thank you so much, sir,' Honora said.

'Right then, I must get some rest. Out with you both, now!' Slughorn clapped his hefty hands once, smiling beneath his bristling blonde mustache.

Tom and Honora left the office together. The corridor was dimly lit, and deserted. She prayed fervently that Tom's rage had subsided while Slughorn had been talking about love potion antidotes. They walked along in heavy silence, Honora biting her lip, her pulse hammering in her ears. The brightness of the Ravenclaw common room seemed an eternity away; she repressed an urge to take off running, leaving Tom behind her. Their footsteps echoed down the dark hallways, unspoken things hanging between them, Honora conscious of every move she made, every step she took, thinking each might be her last.

After an age of walking, they reached the staircase that led up toward Ravenclaw Tower. Honora expected, and hoped, that Tom would turn toward the dungeons. Instead, he grabbed her by the shoulders and whirled her against the stone wall, his hands pressing into her, his body dangerously close. Honora let out a squeak of pain and surprise, feeling pinned by his intense gaze, by the frantic hatred written across his white face.

'What--?' Honora stared up at him. Then she felt Tom's _presence_ in her head, hard and angry, assaulting her mind, looking for her intentions…she slammed him out, as vigorously as she could, marshalling her forces of mental defence. 'How dare you,' she said. 'Stay out of my mind.'

'Who taught you Occlumency?' Tom asked coldly.

'Who taught _you_ Legilimency?' Honora returned.

'It's not your concern,' he said, stepping away, his eyes still shooting daggers of wrath and mistrust at her.

'Likewise, then. Good night.' Honora turned on her heel and ran up the stairs to safety, afraid to look back.

Once she was inside the portrait hole, she breathed a long sigh of relief. There was Ash, and Jamie, playing chess; Lawrence and Damaris on the sofa in front of the fire. Kay was finishing an essay for Transfiguration. Everything looked so normal and warm.

Honora felt she had had a near-brush with death.

She collapsed onto her bed, reviewing what had just happened. So Riddle had not yet made any Horcruxes. Of course, that was not to say that he wouldn't still. But at least Honora knew that Riddle had not yet taken the final step toward evil; if she killed him now, there would be no Horcrux to ensure his survival. It was a small relief, considering how he must hate her. _He'll probably use MY murder to make his first Horcrux,_ she thought crossly, as she drifted off to sleep in the security of the Ravenclaw dormitory.

* * *

After Honora had interrupted the conversation with Slughorn, and Riddle had attempted Legilimency, they had avoided each other entirely. Only once, Honora had caught Riddle's eye, during their Potions class, and the memory made her shiver. In his dark stare she had seen warning, threat, malice…the realisation had hit her like a ton of bricks that Riddle considered her an enemy now. She could not imagine a more perilous situation for herself, and it was all her own fault. 

Publicly, Riddle pretended she did not exist, in a way that was almost insulting, a social cold-shoulder. He never did anything so petty as to show open antagonism to her; Honora was quite sure the other students did not even notice the sudden cold gravity between herself and Riddle. However, even if his outward appearance was innocent perfection, Honora felt certain he would take his revenge on her at the soonest possible opportunity, and her deepest instincts told her to be very careful.

She started making sure to have friends with her at all times, whenever she was outside of Ravenclaw Tower.

As Honora spent the last weeks of term studying for her final exams, she also worried about what Tom would get up to over the summer. Now that he had probably lost his chance to ask Slughorn about Horcruxes, Riddle would undoubtedly try to find out from some other source. _Ugh. Now I have to worry about Riddle's SUMMER and keeping Riddle BUSY so that he doesn't turn EVIL_. It was too much for a seventeen-year-old witch. Honora wanted to be shopping in Diagon Alley with her friends, and catching up on her magical theory reading, and figuring out what _she_ was going to do with her new lease on life.

In the end, April Gaius, the fifth-year Slytherin girl, unwittingly gave Honora an idea as to what to do about Tom Riddle. April ran into Honora after a tense Ravenclaw-Slytherin Quidditch match (Slytherin had won, thanks to Riddle's superb Seeker skills). April had asked, almost snidely, whether Honora would be taking advantage of her own Memorial Fund to stay in Hogsmeade over the summer. Honora had said no, but it got her thinking. She turned to the one person she knew she could trust: Albus Dumbledore.

After a Fizzing Whizzbee this time, Honora sat back in Dumbledore's office and explained her troubles as honestly as she could. 'You see, Professor, it's just that I'm a little bit worried about Tom Riddle. You know, the Slytherin prefect in my year?'

Dumbledore nodded and leaned forward slightly in his chair, sharp blue eyes trained on her.

'I overheard him trying to ask Professor Slughorn something about Horcruxes.' Dumbledore's eyes widened in alarm. 'I don't know what Horcruxes are, but Slughorn seemed to think they were really Dark magic…anyway, I just thought if Riddle's going to be Head Boy, probably, then maybe someone should take a hand to keep him out of trouble.'

'I see,' Dumbledore sat back, slowly. He ran a hand through his auburn beard, looking more than a little worried. 'Yes, I agree with you. Mr. Riddle has always had a tendency toward…certain things. How nice that he has you to look out for him.'

'It's not that, exactly,' Honora hedged. 'I just thought since Grindelwald is still on the loose, we should be careful. And if Riddle is Head Boy…'

'And you think you will most likely be Head Girl,' Dumbledore added with a little knowing smile. 'You don't want to be sharing a common room with a Dark wizard.'

'No, not that!' Honora could not help but smile too. Apparently her ambition to be Head Girl was no secret to Dumbledore. 'Anyway, I thought since Riddle qualifies for the Crowley Memorial Fund, maybe it could be used towards an apprenticeship for the summer. You know, just to keep him busy.'

'You, in the meantime, will be where for the summer?'

'Oh, Damaris Turpin's family has invited me to stay. They have a huge library, I'm going to be catching up so that I'm far ahead of everyone for my seventh year,' Honora laughed.

'Good, good. Well, Miss Crowley, thank you for telling me about young Tom Riddle. I'll see what I can do.'

'Thank you, Professor. I appreciate it.' Honora shook Dumbledore's hand as she left.

'Oh, and Miss Crowley, one more thing,' Dumbledore said. Honora turned. 'You are sure you don't know what Horcruxes are?'

Honora regarded him for a moment. 'I'm sure,' she lied, keeping her mind closed. 'And I don't think I want to know.'

'Let's not be speaking of them again, then,' Dumbledore said. 'Good afternoon,' he finished with a little wave.

* * *

**A/N:** Please take a moment to review, and tell me what you thought! Next update is on Thursday. 


	12. Fate's Turn

**Author's Notes: **To my reviewers, _The Enchanted Teakettle, All-American Vampire, blueforest, Cat in a box, LavenderBrown77, LovinLovegood1, _and _Wren,_ you guys are the best!

To answer some questions from last chapter: To _LavenderBrown77_, indeed, it is the first tangible change in the timeline from the FIRST universe. Now, Tom did not find out about Horcruxes from Slughorn, and now Slughorn is on his guard and will not likely tell him in the future (well-spotted!). Also, I will say that the conversation between Honora and Dumbledore at the end of the chapter is significant: in the original timeline, Dumbledore never knew that Tom Riddle was after Horcruxes. Now he does :-) So, little things, but important.

This next chapter proves that physical action can be a great way to release built-up tension! Have fun.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

* * *

Recap of Chapter 12:

'_Oh, and Miss Crowley, one more thing,' Dumbledore said. Honora turned. 'You are sure you don't know what Horcruxes are?'_

_Honora regarded him for a moment. 'I'm sure,' she lied, keeping her mind closed. 'And I don't think I want to know.'_

'_Let's not be speaking of them again, then,' Dumbledore said. 'Good afternoon,' he finished with a little wave.

* * *

_

**Chapter 12**

**Fate's Turn**

Honora fairly skipped out of Dumbledore's office, then out the main doors into the May sunshine to meet her friends. Now the Tom Riddle problem was on Dumbledore's shoulders. She'd done all she could; now it was time to get exams over with and relax for the summer. The day was clear and sparkling, and Honora had a fun and furious revision flash-card contest with Lawrence over their upcoming Arithmancy final.

With abnormal anticipation, Honora was looking forward to the summer holidays. She hated skulking around her own school in fear, avoiding Riddle. With a sour taste in her mouth, she thought it was no better than Polaris: running away from Lord Voldemort. It was no way to live. The best part of the summer would be the fact that Damaris Turpin's house would be free of evil Dark Lords-in-training (so Honora hoped, at least).

Exams week finally descended, and Ravenclaw became a tense nest of nerves. For students already prone to swotting-ness, exams were always the worst and best part of the year. Honora herself preferred a two-hour exam over a long, drawn-out essay any day of the week. She aced her Charms practical, and correctly remembered all the alchemical references of the Tarot for Divination. Of course, her own relative, Aleister Crowley, had practically invented the alchemy-based Order of the Golden Dawn in Egypt and created a Tarot deck to correspond. Any Crowley worth their salt _should_ be an expert on it.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was her last exam, on Friday. The written portion was set for the morning, followed by an afternoon practical. Honora thought she was well-prepared; Defence was by far her easiest subject. She granted that she had an unfair advantage, having grown up in a world ruled by the evil Lord Voldemort; however, she did not let that stop her from showing off her skills in class and winning points for Ravenclaw.

Thus, Friday afternoon afforded Honora an unwelcome surprise. The sixth-years appeared after lunch, expecting a normal practical examination. What they got was Professor Merrythought announcing a new policy.

Merrythought cleared her gravelly voice. 'Boys and girls, I have decided to do something a little different this year for your practical. Instead of individual examinations, you shall be set up in pairs. You will have to duel for your marks.'

A collective gasp of surprise went up amongst the students. Duelling?

'This has never happened before,' Damaris whispered frantically.

Merrythought continued with her instructions. 'You each will be set up based on your marks so far in this class. You should thus be with a duelling partner who is equal to your own skill level. Pay attention now, the partners are as follows…'

The class was silent with dread as Merrythought read off names. Honora listened for her own name but did not hear it until…

'And finally, Miss Crowley and Mr. Riddle.'

Honora gulped with horror. She may as well give up now; she was going wand to wand with the future Lord Voldemort. None in the world could match him, and she knew it. Honora may have had her pride, but even she did not believe for a second that she could best Riddle in a duel. At least not a fair duel.

She glanced over at Riddle. He was looking at her with an expression of arrogant amusement. It enraged her. _He probably can't wait to get even with me_, she thought miserably. _He's probably already rehearsing in his horrible little head. 'Oh, Professor Merrythought, I didn't _mean_ to send the Killing Curse!' _

Grouchily Honora turned to Damaris. 'I'm dead,' she groaned. 'This is so unfair.'

'Oh, it's not that bad! I'm sure you're just as good as Riddle,' Damaris said.

'Yeah, right. And I'm also engaged to the Giant Squid.' Honora crinkled her nose in distaste. 'What do you think would happen if I just gave up now?'

'You can't do that, you would fail the class!' Damaris shook her head. 'You'll do fine. Just think 'Head Girl, Head Girl,' over and over again.'

'No, you've got it wrong. It's 'dead girl, dead girl,'' Honora plunked her forehead down on the desk. 'Whaaah!'

'Stop being so melodramatic,' Kay said from two seats over, rolling her eyes. 'Honestly.'

Honora sighed loudly. She rather wanted her friends to indulge her temper tantrum, but it would not get her out of duelling Tom Riddle.

Several minutes later, the class trouped outside, where long duelling platforms were set up. Merrythought had enlisted seventh-years who had finished their exams as referees. Court Aiken, the outgoing Head Boy, was the referee for Tom and Honora. Honora flashed Court a smile, hoping to get points for being a fellow Ravenclaw. Court showed no sign of acknowledgment, however. _Man, why doesn't favouritism ever work for me?_ Honora griped to herself.

She took off her black robe and pushed up her sleeves. Tom stepped up to the other side of the wooden platform. Honora was so nervous that she felt like being sick. _If only Grandmother could see me now!_ The thought made a panicky little laugh rise in her throat. If it had been happening to someone else, Honora would find it uproariously funny. Forced into a duel with the Dark Lord for a final examination!

Taking a breath, Honora stepped up to her side of the platform.

Merrythought started giving instructions. 'Now, walk up to your partner, and bow…' Honora and Tom walked towards each other, holding their wands in front of them. Tom held a stern, almost judicious expression. His eyes appeared intensely blue in the sunlight, but his face was even paler than usual. Honora imagined that he looked like a vicious angel, ready to pronounce harsh judgement upon her. She felt her muscles tense up and she told herself to focus. Now was not the time for blind panic.

They bowed to each other, and then turned. Honora reached the end of the platform, heart racing…then came Merrythought's order: 'On three…Three, two, one…Duel!'

Honora whirled around. '_Everte Statum!_' she yelled, sending Tom flying through the air at the other end with stunning force. He pulled himself back up with a look of surprise; Honora guessed he had not expected the power of her spell.

Unwisely, Honora allowed herself to gloat a little, and Tom sent the Jelly-Legs jinx at her. Too distracted to dodge it, she wobbled around the platform as Tom gathered himself for the next round.

'_Expelliarmus!_' both shouted at once. The spells met dead centre, cancelling each other out. Back and forth they went, testing each other, using more and more complex hexes and spells. Tom was a cool customer, although Honora felt he put a bit more feeling than was necessary into his incantations. His bottled up anger towards her was showing itself. As the duel went on, however, Tom got more relaxed, and so did Honora. It appeared that he was not trying to kill her.

'_Lacarnum Inflamarae!_' Tom sent an orange bolt towards Honora, setting her skirt on fire. Honora shrieked, dancing around, trying to put it out.

'_Aguamenti,_' she finally said, dousing it with a burst of water. 'Trying to light my fire, Riddle?' she taunted him.

Tom smirked at her. '_Petrificus Totalus_,' he said calmly. Honora dodged it.

'_Furnunculus,_' Honora countered, hoping to put boils all over Tom's pretty face.

'Is that the best you can do, sweetheart?' Tom teased, putting up a non-verbal shield against her hex.

'I'm just getting started, darling!' Honora shouted back. Once she was into it, this duel was getting to be sort of fun. Tom was playing by the rules so far; she guessed he did not want to risk his DADA mark.

The blood was pumping and Honora trawled her mind for her best spells. '_Incarcerous!_' Ropes flew out of her wand, seeking to ensnare Tom. He levitated himself out of the way with an impressive defensive spell.

While still hovering in the air, Tom whispered '_Serpensortia_,' so quietly that Honora did not hear it. A huge hissing viper issued forth out of his wand, causing Honora to screech in surprise.

'Scared of snakes?' Tom sneered at her.

'Only yours,' she retorted.

Tom started whispering directions to the viper in what had to be Parseltongue. The slick syllables of it rolled off his tongue, incomprehensible and alien. Honora felt a strange little shiver go down her spine, listening to him. She almost liked it.

The great snake was slithering towards her fast. This was not looking good.

'_Glamoura Deceptio!_' Honora created a glamour of her presence. It was a standard defence spell taught by Julius Talbot; it created the illusion that Honora was four feet to the right of where she really was. Honora stepped aside to the edge of the platform to let her glamour take over, and the snake went straight for the illusion. She grinned wickedly.

The rest of the class had mostly won or lost their own contests. A large crowd gathered to watch the intense duel between Tom and Honora.

While Tom was distracted with the glamour, Honora sent a Stunning spell at him. Almost preternaturally, he sensed it and whipped his wand in two directions at once, sending a '_Finite Incantatem_' to destroy her glamour and then '_Silencio_-ed' Honora to keep her from speaking.

'I tire of this, Crowley,' Tom said. 'Give up now.'

She was unable to reply.

'No? All right, then,' he said, casting a non-verbal spell that flung Honora back through the air.

She was losing. Honora focused with all her might to non-verbally release the _Silencio_, and then suddenly had her tongue back.

'_Stupefy!_' she screamed at Tom.

'_Protego!_' he retorted. 'Tsk, tsk. That wasn't nice,' he told her.

'You're not nice,' Honora said, grinning in spite of herself.

'You just don't know me,' Tom said, putting on a hurt air. '_Redimio perchain_.'

Honora was not fast enough. Cold metal chains encircled her hands and ankles.

'_Expelliarmus!_' Tom shouted. Honora's wand flew out of her hand and into his. That finished it; Honora had lost.

A resounding cheer broke out around them. Honora looked around; the entire sixth form was watching, along with students from other years. Merrythought stepped up to the platform and with a flick of her wand vanished Honora's chains. 'Oh my! Good show!' Merrythought said, nodding approvingly. 'That was fine duelling, both of you! Tom, congratulations on winning,' she said, 'and Honora, what a fight! You will both be getting top marks, don't worry about that.'

Honora broke into a smile at this; it seemed her grade was in no danger. She stepped forward towards the middle of the platform where Tom still held her wand. He held it out to her, an expression of genuine satisfaction on his face.

Merrythought stepped back down. 'Right, shake hands then, and the examination period is concluded,' she said.

Tom held out his hand and Honora clasped it. 'Well done,' she said.

'Thank you for the challenge,' he replied softly.

The air between them felt buoyant with an amiable truce. Their powerful duel had obviously cleared the air of a few frustrations. When Honora walked off across the lawn with Damaris and Kay, she glanced back to see Tom watching her, a ghost of a smile on his face.

* * *

Pleased with the end of the year, Honora packed her trunk for the summer with a sense of contemplation. She had successfully carved a place for herself in a society 150 years in the past; she was so acclimated that she felt as though she had always belonged in the 1940s. Her pride in Ravenclaw house, her enviably busy social life, her friends…even the routine of classes and studying was her idea of a dream come true. She never would have imagined that she would get to attend Hogwarts as a student in the days before it turned into the dark, evil centre of Voldemort's empire.

Furthermore, Riddle had gotten out his tremendous anger in a regulated fashion, instead of killing her in the corridors. It was enough to want to throw a huge party and celebrate.

With a wave of her wand, Honora's trunk closed. She picked up her gold family locket from her bedside table, wrapping it carefully in a little silk scarf. With a glance out of her tower window, Honora could see a gorgeous Scottish sunset painting wild purple colours across the sky. Smiling at her whim, she slipped the locket into her skirt pocket and decided to go up to the Astronomy Tower and watch the sky, unafraid to be alone for the first time in weeks.

Fortunately, the tower was deserted, although Honora was surprised. On such a beautiful twilight she had half-expected to find some couple up here snogging. Pleased with her spot, she sat on the stone rampart, leaned back, and watched the grounds of Hogwarts from her birds-eye perch.

A warm breeze grazed across her face and hair, making Honora wonder how she had lived the first seventeen years of her life without daylight and fresh air. It was miraculous that she wasn't vitamin deficient. With a sigh, she pulled out her locket and flicked it open.

At the very bottom of the gilded family tree was her own picture, with engraved words that said '_Honora Crowley. February 17, 2095 -- ?_' Her eyes peered at all the names, back through the English-Egyptian Crowleys, and then back through the Weasleys. Her hand touched the picture of her great-great-grandfather Bill Weasley, bringing up his details in closer relief.

'_Bill Weasley. November 29, 1970 – April 20, 2011. Curse-breaker_.' Honora sighed. 'Wow. You're not even born yet,' she whispered to the picture. 'And you were a Curse-breaker. Drakkis told us about those; it sounds like a fun thing to do.' Honora realised that she was having a one-sided conversation with a picture and smiled at herself. She put the locket gently aside, on the parapet, and let her head fall back against the stone.

The sun was well beneath the horizon when Honora decided that she should probably be getting back to Ravenclaw Tower before curfew. She heaved herself up and clattered down the stairs, stopped to tell off some Slytherin first-years for dawdling (she was not a prefect, but Honora still felt that her position as a sixth-year gave her the right) and finished packing her things to leave in the morning.

It was just past eleven o'clock when Honora started to dress for bed. She put her hand in her skirt pocket and her stomach swooped in panic.

'Damn it!' she nearly shouted. She had left her gold locket up in the Astronomy Tower. _Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. How could I be such a bird-brain?_ Over and over she berated herself as she donned a black cloak and ran out of the dormitory. She could only pray that she would not be caught out of bed…although she wondered how she could possibly get detention when school was technically out. Luckily, the corridors were deserted as Honora hurried along, treading as quietly as possible.

'Hello, Crowley,' said a voice from the shadows, when Honora was nearly at the entrance to the Astronomy stairs.

She turned, peering into the shadows, and that dark-haired Slytherin, Raoul Lestrange, stepped forward.

Honora's brow furrowed. 'Lestrange,' she nodded curtly. She was very glad he was not a prefect.

'And what are you doing out of the safety of Ravenclaw Tower at—' he looked at his watch '—eleven-fifteen in the evening?'

'I could ask you the same thing about being out of the Slytherin dungeons.'

'Yes, well…' Lestrange sighed. 'Business, you know.'

Honora raised her eyebrows. She wished he would just shut up and leave her alone; she did not want to be followed up to the Astronomy Tower in the middle of the night by this creepy character.

Lestrange smiled at her, cheerlessly, thin lips stretched over large teeth. 'Well, good night then, Crowley. Have a nice summer.'

'Right, you too,' Honora said, out of politeness. She did not like the cold feeling that Raoul Lestrange engendered. It was no wonder that he was one of Riddle's original Death Eaters.

With him out of the way, Honora raced up the stairs to the top of the Astronomy Tower, occasionally looking behind her to be certain Lestrange was not after her. The coast was clear. Huffing, out of breath, she pushed open the door at the top and stopped short.

The moonlight illuminated the stone floor, and the low walls, to be sure. But when Honora looked to where she had been sitting before, her heart stopped.

The locket was gone.

* * *

**A/N:** Yeah, uh-oh! I love reviews, so please take a moment! And, a note about some of the spells in this chapter that are my creation: _Glamoura Deceptio_ and _Redimio Perchain_ I made up myself, using a handy little English-Latin online translator. 


	13. Balance

**Author's Notes:** To my reviewers: wow, you are all the greatest! Thanks to _Wren, LovinLovegood1, The Enchanted Teakettle, All-American Vampire, blueforest, LavenderBrown77, larken27, Kiki, _and _Tiamat Warcraft_.

This is a bit of a transition chapter, in the summer, but there's a little bit of Tom, too.

Oh, I read something funny today – apparently Tom Riddle's diary sold for $4,000 on Ebay, the prop from the film, I'm assuming :-) Crazy! Hey, maybe if it was his _real_ diary…if only…I'm twisted, I know.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

* * *

**Chapter 13**

**Balance**

Despite a frantic search of the Astronomy Tower the night before, and the stairs leading up to it, and all the corridors from there to Ravenclaw, Honora had not found her locket. She had even checked the grounds below the tower, on the off-chance that a freak breeze had pushed it off. She asked around all her friends, none of whom had seen anything large, gold, and seashell-shaped. Honora was beside herself with despair, and deeply annoyed at how careless she had been.

Shaking her head, she knew there was nothing to do about it. Perhaps some couple had gone up to the tower, and had found the locket, and either kept it or turned it in; in either case, she would not find out until the start of the next school year.

It was not lost on her that the locket contained very sensitive information: namely, Honora's true birth-date. It would not do for anyone to realise she had been born in 2095! However, she was not sure that anyone could even open the locket if they were not blood relations. Often these things had protective enchantments; Honora prayed that was the case with her locket.

With a sad sigh, Honora tried to put it out of her head. She would not let a lost trinket destroy her summer, no matter how important an heirloom it was.

It was also unknown to her what Dumbledore had arranged for Tom Riddle's summer. However, Honora figured the whole thing could not be entirely up to her and chose to concentrate on her own holiday plans instead. On the Hogwarts Express back to London, Damaris and Honora made a list of all the things they were going to do with their months off. Kay reminded them to do the summer reading.

'I'm not as irresponsible as I look,' said Damaris. 'Besides, Miss Head Girl is here to keep me on track.'

Honora crossed her fingers superstitiously. 'Don't say it yet! Not until I get the letter. What if Dippet chooses some Hufflepuff?'

'He couldn't do that,' Kay said. 'He would have to be a total dunderhead.'

Honora raised her eyebrows and gave Kay a pointed look.

'Oh,' Kay said, 'I see what you mean.'

At Kings Cross, Mr. and Mrs. Turpin were there to pick up Damaris, Honora, and Damaris's two younger brothers, Joseph (a fourth-year Ravenclaw) and Eldridge (a second-year Gryffindor). Mr. Turpin was tall, distinguished, and would have been blonde were he not completely bald. Mrs. Turpin was tall, thin, and had a ready smile.

They waved goodbye to Kay and her Muggle parents, and Honora and Damaris linked arms as they got into the wizarding automobile that expanded to fit the whole family. The Turpins lived in Suffolk, about two hours' drive from London, in a large old stone house set in the countryside. They were not fabulously wealthy, but were fairly well-off and Mrs. Turpin had two house-elves to help with cleaning and cooking. The gardens were full of flowers and butterflies and Honora loved to just sit out on the patio, reading as she worked on her tan. Summertime in England was a fine thing, and Honora and Damaris spent their days reading Witch Weekly magazine, riding brooms around the garden, and perusing Mr. Turpin's extensive spell library.

Honora was not about to let Tom Riddle get the better of her in seventh year, so she starting studying Occlumency in earnest. It was lucky that Mr. Turpin owned a rare copy of 'Occlumency: the Other Option for Wizarding Defence,' by Augustus Brainshank. She learned how to not only clear her mind of all thoughts and emotions, but how to let certain memories come forward to trick a Legilimens into believing she was _allowing_ them into her head. If Tom tried to use Legilimency on her again, he would not even know she was blocking him.

She had not played her cards right with Tom Riddle, Honora realised. Yes, she had gotten his attention, but he had been wary of her, at best; in fact, he seemed to nurse a little hatred for her. That had to change. There was only one way to get close enough to him to discover his weakness: _she had to earn his trust_. Honora had to get him to open up to her a little bit, so she could figure out the best way to get rid of him once and for all. That meant being (or pretending to be) his friend. With her new Occlumency skills, Honora hoped she could pull it off.

In late July, Kay came to stay for the remainder of the holiday. She brought exciting news: the Muggle war had turned in favour of England with a massive Allied invasion of France. Muggles across the nation were pitched in excitement and optimism, she reported. Even the Daily Prophet was talking about the imminent retreat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald's forces in Europe. The summer of 1944 was a bright time, indeed.

Damaris turned seventeen on July 27th, and the Turpins held their annual summer garden party. Several hundred people were invited, and the party was held on the Turpins' extensive lawn under a marquee. Even some traditionally Slytherin families showed up, including the Blacks, the Gaiuses, and the Hornbys. It seemed that it was alright to socialise with Slytherins as long as you were not at Hogwarts.

In mid-August, Hogwarts owls appeared at the kitchen window with their exam results. Honora's owl came with a fat letter attached. Kay and Damaris looked at each other with grins as Honora ripped it open, scanning rapidly.

'Dear Miss Crowley, You have been selected as Head Girl for the 1944-45 school year…yippee!' Honora tossed the parchment into the air with a yelp. 'HaHA! This is brilliant! I can't believe I actually got it. That moron Dippet does have an ounce of sense, after all! It's amazing!'

To celebrate, Mrs. Turpin had the house-elf make margaritas from a recipe in the Witch Weekly special edition, 'New World witches: bring a taste of the tropics to your home.'

In all, the summer holiday was a relaxing and productive time. She did not have to think about Lord Voldemort or saving the future or anything so utterly serious. That little voice that said, '_You had better take care of the Tom Riddle problem now, Honora, before he gets more powerful,_' had been tuned out. She allowed her curious mind to wander freely through its light-hearted existence. By the time late August rolled around, Honora was mellow, happy, and energetic for the new school year.

A week before school was due to begin, Damaris wheedled permission out of her parents for the girls to stay at the Leaky Cauldron and do their shopping on Diagon Alley. In a thrilling excursion into Muggle London with Kay, Honora acquired a cunning new satin kimono and negligee in black with gold thread. Since the Galleons to pounds sterling exchange rate was so good, she also bought several new dresses, pairs of high heels, gloves, and stockings. The rest of her school robes she bought at Madame Malkin's.

One fine blue-skied day, when the thick warm August air enveloped around buildings and a slight breeze lifted down the street, Damaris spotted Lawrence Carter going into Quality Quidditch Supplies. Snatching Kay's hand, Damaris announced that she _had_ to see the new line of Nimbus brooms. Honora declined to join them; stalking boys had never been her style (Riddle did not count). Besides, the air was too full of the bewitching scent of a city summer, and she did not feel like wasting her day in a Quidditch shop.

Leaving her friends, Honora wandered down Diagon Alley, basking in the late summer sunshine. She wore one of her new dresses, a lovely cream-coloured thing with candy red trim. It set off her glowing skin to perfection and Honora was in such a beautiful mood that she could not help but smile at everyone she saw.

Honora stopped short when she saw a tall, lean, handsome boy with black hair step out of Gringotts Bank. Tom Riddle was looking _very_ well. His skin had some colour, and he looked healthy and confident. He wore sharp pinstripe slacks and white cotton shirt-sleeves, rolled up to the elbows. Honora felt a funny pressure at the base of her throat as she stared at him.

Tom turned his head slightly in her direction. Honora laughed as he did a classic double-take, his eyebrows raised in recognition of her. Tossing her hair, she grinned and waved at him. Might as well get on good terms with the Head Boy.

Tom actually raised his hand and waved back, although he did not smile. Putting as much strength into her walk as she could muster, Honora went to him, remembering her vow to befriend, deceive, get closer.

'Hello!' she said.

'Hullo,' Tom replied, coolly polite.

'Happy summer!' Honora said.

'Uh, right.' Tom's face was expressionless, eyes flat.

_Well, fine, Tom Riddle. You don't want to have fun, I'll just have to drag you along with me_, Honora thought. 'Want to go get some ice cream?' she suggested brightly.

'No, thanks,' Tom answered, looking off into the distance. He seemed eager to be rid of her.

'Come on! It's a beautiful day, and the birds are chirping, and we don't have much of this gorgeous warm weather left.' She grabbed his hand and before he could protest, she was dragging him through the street toward Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. It had to be done before she lost her nerve.

'I don't care for ice cream,' he said.

'Liar. Everyone loves ice cream.'

'I really have somewhere I need to be.' Tom sounded exasperated with her.

'That's right, you need to be eating ice cream.' Honora knew she was being annoying, but did not care.

Fortescue's was crowded, but there was a café table available outside. They sat down at the small wrought iron table. Honora leaned forward on her elbows and smiled some more at Tom. That seemed to unnerve him more than anything. It made Honora feel bold.

A waiter appeared at the table, looking expectant. 'I'll have a cinnamon sundae,' Honora ordered. She looked at Tom. He stayed stubbornly silent. 'Let's see…' she said. 'I think Tom's favourite flavour is…_dark_ chocolate.'

The waiter said, 'Right-o, one dark chocolate and one cinnamon sundae,' and left.

'So what have you been doing this summer?' Honora asked.

'Working,' Tom said shortly.

'Working where?'

He sighed. 'You're irritating, you know that?'

'Yes, I know. So where were you working?'

Tom lowered his gaze at her. 'Fine. I was working as an apprentice for an alchemist.'

'Oh? Who?' Honora batted her eyelashes in interest.

'His name is Nicolas Flamel.'

'Really!' That _was_ interesting. Honora sat up straight. 'What did you do for him?'

'Research.'

Honora leaned back in her chair. Tom Riddle was a tough nut to crack. 'I believe,' she said lightly, 'that Flamel recently published a paper on the ancient Hermetic hieroglyphs. I read about it in the _Quarterly Journal of Alchemy_.'

'You take scholarly journals?' Tom asked.

'Yes,' said Honora. 'You can never learn too much.'

'True,' he said. 'Although the responsibility of knowledge is more than some can bear.'

'To use it wisely, you mean?' Honora asked.

'To use it at all,' said Tom.

She narrowed her eyes. 'Some knowledge is best left in theory,' she said. 'But that's where you and I disagree.'

'I daresay we do,' Tom said, and smiled something charming. They both leaned back as their ice cream sundaes arrived.

'So,' she said, 'what sort of research did you do for Flamel?'

'I'll defer that answer for now.'

'For now?' Honora smiled more broadly. 'Does that mean you'll tell me someday?'

Caught, his lips twitched and he shrugged his shoulders. 'No guarantees.'

Honora used her spoon to swirl her ice cream around in its dish. She decided to continue her policy of directness. Tom would see through her intentions in an instant. 'You know, my… relative… Aleister Crowley. He's an expert on the Hermetic arts. And in the family tradition, I've always been fascinated with it. Alchemy offers both spiritual and physical transformation, a highly useful skill, yes?'

'Yes,' said Tom. 'Flamel has corresponded with Aleister Crowley on the subject. Incidentally, Honora, do you know him? Crowley?'

'No,' she said. 'Besides, he's set to die in a couple of years…' she trailed off, aware she'd made a blunder with the timeline. 'Or so I heard. His health is failing.'

'Mmm,' said Tom. 'It's too bad. Flamel is having quite the time with these Hermetic hieroglyphs.'

'Oh, Tom, don't keep me in suspense!' Honora burst. 'At least tell me what you've learned so far. I'm interested, and I doubt there's a single other person you can talk to about it. You can't go through a whole year at Hogwarts like that, you know.' She tilted her head prettily at him.

There was a moment of conversational silence in which birds chirped, people around them spoke and laughed, and the air above their own table was thick with its own energy. Tom looked straight at Honora as though in the process of deciding something. He opened his mouth. 'We were working on ways to translate the ancient Hermetic hieroglyphs into a useful formula for physical transmutation.'

Honora raised her eyebrows in acute interest. 'Really! And did you? Translate them, I mean?'

'Yes, to an extent,' Tom said. 'We had some trouble with certain sections of the text that appear to be part of some kind of cipher. Otherwise, we discovered some very interesting things about circumventing the properties of gold to allow spontaneous conjuration.'

'The goblins won't like the sounds of that,' Honora smirked.

'No! Although the work is not finished yet.'

'It sounds amazing,' Honora said truthfully. 'To me, what's fascinating is the possibility of an underlying Arithmatic equation that explains _all_ of magic, leading to the transmutation of the very soul itself. I mean, the foundation of Hermetic alchemy is based on it; the knowledge just seems to have been lost through the ages.'

'Yes, exactly!' Tom's serious indigo eyes seemed to glow with inner light. 'If the Hermetic knowledge was completely recovered, it would open up possibilities that no one has ever dreamt of. Flamel is far along, but even he admits that the full scholarly understanding of the Philosopher's Stone continues to elude him.'

'The Philosopher's Stone.'

'Yes.' Tom's face showed sudden caution.

'Because Flamel is immortal,' Honora said. Suddenly she wondered why on _earth_ Albus Dumbledore had sent Tom Riddle to a person with the knowledge of immortality.

'He and his wife Perenelle have been alive for six hundred and seventeen years, yes,' Tom stated.

'And…what do you think about that?' Honora pried, carefully.

Tom sat back and thought for a moment. 'I think…he seems happy with his choices.'

'And with his wife?' Honora quipped. 'I mean, six hundred years, one woman…'

'Perenelle is an interesting character,' Tom said. 'I can't say I blame Nicolas for including her in his scheme.'

Honora could not believe her ears. Had Tom Riddle just approved of sharing the power of immortality? This was getting weird.

'It was funny,' Tom continued, 'Flamel had never heard the story of your Egyptian wizard and his unfortunate crystallised immortality under the sea.'

Honora gulped. Oops. 'I didn't realise you paid so much attention to what I said.'

'Well, only when it sounds like it might be useful,' Tom admitted.

'I see,' Honora laughed. 'You'll have to listen to me a lot more then, because I've been made Head Girl.'

'Surprise, surprise.'

'And I suppose you're Head Boy?'

Tom nodded his head, lips pressed ever so slightly in a smile.

'Hmm.' Honora saw that down the street, her friends had come out of Quality Quidditch Supplies. They would be looking for her, she realised with disappointment. 'Well, Tom, I have to go get the rest of my schoolbooks. But thank you for your company,' she said.

'I didn't have a choice,' he said. 'Oh, but Honora?'

'Yes?'

'You were right, dark chocolate is my favourite.'

Honora laughed, delighted. 'I love being right!' she grinned at Tom. As she walked around the table to leave, she let her hand run along his shoulder lightly. 'I'll see you on the train!' she called back at him.

Tom merely looked at her, then raised his hand to give her a tiny wave with his long fingers.

Honora surreptitiously paid the bill of a few Sickles and then met up with her friends in very high spirits. Tom Riddle wasn't all that bad; she had enjoyed his conversation far more than she thought she would. _Careful there_, she told herself. When she was talking to him, it was easy to forget who he was going to become. Easy to forget that one of these days he would have to die by her hand.

Reunited, the group of Ravenclaws spotted Ash Wynn from down the street, who bounded up, giving hugs to the girls and a high-five to Lawrence, who immediately starting talking about that year's professional Quidditch statistics. Honora sighed happily. Her crowd was back for another year of fun, and she had beguiled Tom Riddle into pleasant conversation. Seventh-year was shaping up to be very fine, indeed.


	14. Stasis

**Author's Notes:** Huge thanks again to all my readers and reviewers: _blueforest, Kiki, All-American Vampire, lovinlovegood1, Wren, Larken27, _and _The Enchanted Teakettle_. Oh and to _Larken27_, that is so cool about your similarities with Damaris – weird but cool! Now for the next chapter. sigh When it comes to Tom Riddle, nothing is ever easy.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

* * *

**Chapter 15**

**Stasis**

Later that week, the Hogwarts Express was ready to steam its way out of Kings Cross and Honora proudly walked along Platform Nine and Three-Quarters as though she owned it. She had to admit she loved the feeling of power and importance the glittering Head Girl badge gave her; all the other students looked at her with awe and respect. It made her hold her head high and wave to everyone, as though she were the Queen of Hogwarts. She peered up over the crowd, and with a slight tingle of distaste, found Tom Riddle amongst a group of his Slytherin associates (_Death Eaters_, the voice in her head could not help reminding her).

Once again gathering her three months of built-up courage, Honora strode up toward him, keeping her face friendly and open. 'Oh, Tom!' she waved.

She swore Riddle heard her, but he did not offer any indication of acknowledgment. In fact, he turned his back slightly to her.

Honora could not believe how rude he was acting. 'Tom!' she said, more loudly, and pushed her way through the dark, intimidating crowd of Slytherins, standing her ground.

Tom finally met her glance with a curt nod of the head. 'Yes?' he said.

Honora tilted her head and smiled at him, masking her inner aggravation. 'Shall we gather the prefects in their carriage for the meeting?'

Tom lifted his head to gaze over the crowd, stern and unreachable. 'I'll take care of it,' he said shortly. 'Excuse me.' He ducked away, walking fast through the crowd, leaving Honora with no opportunity to protest.

Honora looked after him in hurt puzzlement, unsure where his previous familiarity had gone. He had been so nice during their ice cream date on Diagon Alley, and now he was essentially ignoring her. And here she thought she had made some progress with him. She shook her head. Tom Riddle was impossible to read; polite one minute, frosty the next. If only he could let his guard down just a little bit…but she knew he would never do that. She doubted any of Riddle's Slytherin friends even knew what kind of madness lurked underneath his façade.

Speaking of Slytherins, Honora realised she was standing smack in the middle of a crowd of them, their surly faces turned to her in distrust.

All eyes were on her, making her skin crawl. She looked purposefully away from Raoul Lestrange, who was staring at her in a way that made her certain he was having inappropriate thoughts. Then, Antonin Dolohov stepped forward, looking down his nose. 'Who do you think you are, speaking to Riddle so casually? You're not his friend. You're a nobody.'

'I'm Head Girl, actually,' Honora replied briskly. 'And don't forget it, Dolohov. You don't scare me.' She pushed her way out of the Slytherin pack, ready to go assert her authority somewhere else. Just as she had stepped out of the circle, a hand grabbed her elbow, and Honora turned, annoyed.

It was Olive Hornby, her lips smeared with red lipstick, nose upturned. 'You just stay away from Riddle,' she hissed quietly. 'He would never go for with the likes of you, anyway.'

Honora gaped at her. Did this girl genuinely think Honora was after Tom Riddle as a romantic interest? _I wouldn't consider it in a million years,_ she thought. _Going out with Lord Voldemort! As if I would!_ However, Honora decided to make Olive squirm. 'I'll do whatever I damn well please, Hornby. Now let go of my arm before I decide to start off your academic year with a detention.'

Olive released Honora with a sneer. Unfazed, Honora gave her an equal look of disdain and walked away.

She boarded the train just in time, and aside from introducing herself, she let Tom lead the prefects' meeting to discuss the various protocols. He still showed no informality towards her, but Honora shrugged it off as a behavioural anomaly. _He'll come around_, she told herself with optimism. _I'll gain his trust_.

Duties done, Honora returned to the compartment with her fellow Ravenclaws and caught up on everyone else's summer. Jamie Whitcomb, whose father was a Muggle, was talking rapidly with Kay about the war news.

Honora piped in on their conversation. 'I wonder if the Dark lord Grindelwald is sort of behind the Nazis,' she suggested. 'Or collaborating, or something.'

'Could be,' said Jamie. 'My dad works for the Army. They've heard stories about Hitler's men being obsessed with finding certain ancient relics.'

'Is there any evidence for that, though?' Kay asked. 'I mean, you don't think Grindelwald has just put Hitler under the Imperius Curse or something?'

'I think the Muggle Hitler is probably a foul enough character on his own,' said Honora. 'Of course, I don't know much about it…I just think it's a strange coincidence that a German Dark lord is fighting us, at the same time as everything else.'

'I heard Dumbledore is really going to go after Grindelwald,' contributed Ash. 'The Ministry of Magic has had teams of Aurors after him, but I think Dumbledore's the only one who could really do something about it.'

'But what about our Transfiguration classes?' Damaris asked, sounding alarmed.

Everyone laughed at her.

Almost first thing, upon returning to the castle, Honora waylaid the caretaker, Apollyon Pringle, and asked him if anyone had returned a gold locket. The grizzled old man just leered at her, and said, 'No, little girl. No lost trinkets found by me.' Honora had felt very uncomfortable with the way he stared at her (the second time that day that had happened; she wondered if she was wearing too much eye makeup), and she had hastened out of the caretaker's dungeon office, feeling frustrated.

It seemed she would have to write off her precious family locket as stolen, lost forever. It felt like a bad omen.

In any case, the welcoming feast that night was wonderful, and Ravenclaw cheered their new first-year members loyally. Honora was interested to see yet another transfer student from Europe; a third-year boy named Jean de Trois. He was sorted into Gryffindor. After the feast, Honora led the students up to the portrait of the Arabian wizard, and set the password as '_tipsy troll_.'

Lawrence snorted at this and mentioned something about the Slytherin Beater and a bottle of firewhisky.

As Head Girl, Honora got her own private bedroom in Ravenclaw Tower. It was luxuriously appointed with a huge carved canopy bed in blue and bronze, a beautiful dark wood armoire with the Ravenclaw crest on it, and a pretty white marble bathroom with bronze fixtures. She was thrilled with the space, but missed the camaraderie of sharing a room with four other girls. Her bedroom seemed so lonely. She resolved to use her power as Head Girl to throw late night wine and cheese parties in her quarters; Damaris and Kay would surely be up for it.

In addition to her private rooms in Ravenclaw, Honora also shared a common room with the Head Boy. Their room was located on the second floor; Honora had been told that it was mainly used for meetings, study groups, or general Head Boy-Head Girl sociability. She had not yet seen it, but after she got the first-years to bed she decided to go have a look.

She met Willow McLeod and her other former room-mate Lucy Redding in the Ravenclaw common room. Willow waved at her, and got a crafty look on her face when Honora mentioned she was going down to the Head's common room.

'That Tom Riddle is looking awfully good this year, Honora,' Willow said. 'You know what I mean?'

'No, I don't know what you mean,' Honora replied, looking directly at Willow. 'I think he's horrible.' She could not help but smile a little as she said it.

'Right, right,' Willow laughed. 'I wish I was Head Girl. I would sneak up on him and give him a kiss!'

Lucy looked scandalised. 'Willow!' she giggled.

Honora rolled her eyes. 'Anyway, I'll see you later,' she said with a wave. She walked quickly down the stairs, to the second floor. The Head common room was guarded by a portrait of an unfriendly-looking witch in black robes with a large wart on her nose. She was flying around on her broomstick above a large, scummy pond. In the background, a man was hanging from a gallows, his feet swinging in the breeze. _How fitting_, thought Honora.

'Hello, I'm Head Girl,' Honora introduced herself.

'So?' the witch said tetchily.

'So, let me into my common room.'

The witch cackled and zoomed around. 'I'll get you, my pretty!'

'Oh, brother…' Honora was getting fed up with the witch's antics. 'What's your name, witch?'

'Why, oh why should I tell you?' the witch glared down her hooked nose at Honora.

'Try '_Matthew Hopkins burns in Hell,_' suggested a male voice behind her. Honora turned to see Tom Riddle looming over her, a picture of the model student in neatly pressed uniform, Head Boy badge glinting on his shoulder.

'That's right, handsome boy,' the witch's demeanour changed immediately into a simpering sweetness. The portrait swung open.

'Thanks,' Honora said to Tom. He just shrugged. 'Oh, this is nice!' she said as they walked into the common room.

It was. A curved bay of tall gothic arched windows lifted toward the vaulted ceiling, and a large part of the left hand wall was taken up by a fireplace with a carved mahogany mantle. The floor was covered with a plush silk carpet, handcrafted by the famous wizard weavers of Persia, an intricate design of red, gold, green and blue. A long antique black velvet sofa stretched in front of the fireplace, flanked by four magnificent armchairs. Tapestries of the Ravenclaw and Slytherin crests hung on either side of the portrait hole. There was a study table with two chairs in the bay window, and a longer conference-type table stretched down the right hand wall. Two pretty silver chandeliers hung in mid-air, lit by tiny candles. It was an elegant and comfortable space.

'What's in here?' Honora asked, going over to a large cabinet and opening it. Inside were stacks of parchment, quills, texts, and a large black book which turned out to be a roster of every student at Hogwarts, their class schedules, their marks for every year, and all kinds of other juicy information. Honora's eyes lit up. 'Wow!' she said, riffling through it. 'I didn't know your friend Mulciber failed Charms twice!'

Tom glared at her. 'Can we just decide on the schedules already?'

Honora sighed. 'Fine.' _He's sure in a bad mood, still,_ she thought.

'We need to go over all the prefects' schedules and make timetables for their patrols, and our own. Dippet also told me to tell you we have a meeting with him tomorrow evening at eight o'clock.' Tom spoke crisply and still acted without any indication of their friendly rapport from the summer. Honora wondered what she had done to make him turn so cold all of a sudden.

'All right…when do want to do the schedules?'

'Tomorrow, lunchtime, here.' Tom turned to go. 'I assume you find that satisfactory?'

'Yes,' said Honora. 'I'll bring some snacks.'

'Do whatever you want. Good night.' His robes whipped behind him as he walked quickly out the door.

'Sheesh,' said Honora to herself. 'Wonder what's got into him.' Perhaps he had not had a good day; in any case it was too late at night to dwell on it, and Honora contented herself by going back to her beautiful bedroom and unpacking her things. She set her hairbrush and perfume bottles out on her vanity table, and draped her pearl necklace across the mirror to give it a nice feminine look. Finally, she hung her clothes in the large wardrobe and carefully stacked her favourite books on her nightstand.

'All done!' Honora said, to no one in particular. She climbed into bed, thinking how strange it was to be all alone.

The next day, the Ravenclaws were chirping excitedly about a new year of learning. Honora had done all the summer reading, and was looking forward to her most advanced classes yet. On that first day, Slughorn detained Honora and a few others after Potions to let them know about a Friday night dinner in October he was having, with a special guest appearance by Connor Coppertone, the American Undersecretary of Magic.

As arranged, Honora went to the Head common room at lunch, carrying a plate of sandwiches and grapes. Just because Tom wanted to spend his lunch hour working did not mean she should starve.

'What are you now, a house-elf?' Tom said rudely from the table, sneering at Honora as she walked in with the plate of sandwiches.

Honora rolled her eyes. 'No,' she said. 'In case you hadn't noticed, it's the lunch hour, and I'm hungry.'

Tom turned back to the papers spread out in front of him. 'Here,' he said with a bored sigh, 'take out a quill and start writing down the names of the patrols on this chart.'

Honora just looked at him resentfully. 'Fine,' she finally said, taking the papers.

As Tom read out pairs of names, Honora transcribed them down for various night-time patrols. As Head Boy and Head Girl, she and Tom would patrol the corridors every once in awhile, as well. Honora couldn't _wait_ for that jolly time. She munched on a sandwich, and then some grapes, knowing it was irritating him.

Once they were finished with the charts, Honora made three more copies with a swish of her wand and took two to post up in the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw common room boards.

'That's all for now,' Tom said in a dismissive manner. 'Remember, Dippet's office tonight.'

'You're not my diary, Tom,' Honora snapped, forgetting momentarily about the obvious Horcrux connection.

He looked up sharply. 'What?'

'I mean, I don't need you to tell me my schedule.'

'Oh. Well, good. One less thing for me to have to say to you,' Tom retorted, his gaze cold and unsympathetic.

Honora made an indignant noise. Why was he being so _nasty_? She shook her head and stood up from the table, standing with the prefect schedules in her hand. When it became clear that Tom was not going to say anything else to her, she turned on her heel and left the room, feeling disturbed, confused, and very much unwanted as a friend.

* * *

**A/N:** Cookies to whoeverknowswho Matthew Hopkins was! 


	15. Secrets and Changes

**Author's Notes:** Oh my goodness, so many reviews…you all are wonderful! Big thanks to _All-American Vampire, Laochra, blueforest, Maelys, lilith, Wren, LovinLovegood1, Larken27, iloveme2815, Nosilla, Lovin' it, _and _aarzu._ I just can't believe the response.

Ah yes, and fresh baked cookies for the following: _All-American Vampire, Laochra, lilith, _and _Nosilla_…yes, Matthew Hopkins was the witch-finder general in the 1640s, during the East Anglian witch hunts. He was directly responsible for the hanging deaths of over 300 women, and was a bit of a nasty character. And _lilith_, great verses from Samuel Butler! Hopkins met his end in 1647, and died either by consumption (tuberculosis) or, there is a story that he was himself hanged for witchcraft in that year. I rather hope it was the latter, as that would be comically ironic, and I appreciate irony in all its forms.

On to the new chapter…please, no flames for anti-American sentiment – it's more an antipathy toward politicians in general! And I apologise for a lack of Tom Riddle in this chapter, it's mostly transition. However, after this, take my word for it: it's all Tom, all the time, right up until the end.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

* * *

**Chapter 15**

**Secrets and Changes**

Unfortunately, Tom Riddle's bad attitude did not change as the weeks went by. He attended the weekly meetings with Dippet, which were always a bore (Dippet never had anything important to say) and occasionally did the night patrols with Honora. He never made conversation, however; he seemed to want nothing to do with her.

Honora was beginning to think that she would have to resort to simply killing him one of these days, and blaming it on a poltergeist.

The rest of her life was going well, however; she went to the Ravenclaw Quidditch matches with her friends, and played cards in the common room with Ash and Lawrence. Since Tom hardly ever spent time in the Head common room, Honora and her friends started using it to have gatherings and play Wizard's Dare. The latter was always risky; one night Honora had found herself forced to run into the freezing-cold lake wearing nought but her nightgown. It had been highly embarrassing.

She had also kept in mind that the Slytherin common room had windows into the lake.

One night in October, right before the first Slug Club meeting, Honora decided to follow up on her pillow-party idea and invited Damaris, Kay, Willow, and Lucy to her room. As Head Girl, Honora could go anywhere in the castle she liked at any time, so she made a run to the kitchens for some cheese, crackers, chocolate, and six bottles of wine. She levitated the heavy tray carefully as she snuck back down the corridors; even if she was Head Girl it would not look good for her to appear alcoholic. She got back to her room without anyone seeing her, however, and at eleven the other girls showed up in their nightgowns and slippers, all giggling uncontrollably.

'Leave it to you to abuse your privileges, Honora,' Kay teased.

'I'm glad she is the way she is,' Willow declared. 'You're so much more fun than last year's Head Girl. She was a right stickler for rules.'

'Oh, I believe strongly in rules…for everyone else!' Honora finished. It was mostly true; Honora was not a big rule-breaker at Hogwarts, certainly not like the Gryffindors. Last year she had never broken curfew, skipped classes (aside from that time in Herbology), or done anything very wrong; mostly she was terrified of being expelled. This year, however, she had a little more license to have some fun.

Damaris uncorked the wine and conjured some glasses, pouring generously. 'Ladies, a toast,' she said. 'To the benefactress of this debacle we are prepared to embark on, in the name of feminine solidarity everywhere. Girls, we can do it! We can out-drink the boys!'

'Here, here!' they all echoed, clinking their glasses together.

The cheese went well with the wine, and an hour later the room was getting very raucous. Lucy and Damaris were prancing around in feather boas they had glamoured for themselves; and Kay was breathlessly telling Willow and Honora about what she and John Parrish had _really_ done after the Salvation Ball.

Damaris collapsed into giggles after tripping over her boa, making it disappear in a 'pop!' and poured the girls their third glasses of wine.

'Let's play Secrets!' she suggested loudly.

'You've been missing out, Kay's already told us hers,' Honora hooted. Kay hit her with a pillow, causing her wine to slosh.

'Come on, girls, in a circle,' Willow said.

They arranged themselves in a circle on the floor, sitting criss-cross. None could hold in their laughter at any one time. Willow brought out her miniature game Sneakoscope to get the game going.

'Okay, since everyone needs to hear this, I choose…Kay, to tell us the truth about John Parrish.'

'Willow!' Kay protested.

'It's not hard, you just told us!' Honora teased.

'All right, all right. So, after the Salvation Ball, like I said, John and I went for a walk in the gardens…well, it was February and awfully cold so we found this spot out of the wind and, and, um, he kissed me!' Kay was smiling now.

'Oooh!' all the girls squealed.

'That's not all,' Honora reminded. Kay glared good-naturedly at her. 'This is Secrets, remember?'

'Fine, we kissed and kissed for half an hour. And then, er, a little bit more,' Kay finished in a mortified whisper.

'Ahhhh!' the girls screamed in unison. The Sneakoscope whirred a happy clear green; Kay was telling the truth.

'Shh! Everyone! Someone will hear us!' Lucy hissed in a loud whisper. They muffled their laughter with pillows.

'Oh, Kay, that's not so bad! If you want to keep a boy, you have to throw him something once in awhile,' Damaris encouraged her.

'Really, Damaris? All right, then,' Kay grinned at her friend. 'In the game of Secrets, I choose…Damaris, to tell us what's really going on between her and _Lawrence Carter_.'

Damaris looked horrified. The girls stared in anticipation. Damaris took a deep breath and blurted it out. 'We're going to get engaged!' she said in a high voice.

The room pounded. Lucy's eyes bugged out of her head; Willow pretended to go into a faint. Kay laughed wickedly and Honora slammed her hands to her mouth.

'Are you really?' Lucy squealed.

'Mmhmm,' Damaris nodded fervently. 'We talked about it a few nights ago. I would have said something, but—I just couldn't! I had to relish it for a tiny while.'

'Oh, Damaris!' Willow gave her a hug, prompting all the other girls to do the same.

'Yeah, congratulations,' said Honora, smiling at her friend. She hoped that no one saw the tears glistening in her eyes. _Stupid wine_, she thought. It was making her emotional, and she remembered Freya and Jasper in Polaris, and how she was supposed to marry Marlow Woden. It now felt like years ago to her. She was happy for Damaris, but maybe a little jealous, too. She could not help but think that the tall, handsome Quidditch captain could have been hers if she had tried…If she had not had to focus on stupid Tom Riddle.

Honora tried to shake off the ill feeling and brought her attention back to her friends. 'Well,' she said, 'I don't think any of us can top that one!'

'Not so fast,' Damaris said with a grin. 'I choose…Honora, to tell us what she really thinks of our Head Boy.'

'Ohhh, good one, Damaris!' Kay said approvingly.

'Yes, tell us,' said Willow. 'Tell us how handsome Tom Riddle is up close.'

'Very funny,' Honora said. Inside she was cross at Damaris for bringing up Tom at that moment. She could lie as an Occlumens, and in her daily life, but could she fool a Sneakoscope? She would have to just tell part of the truth. 'Right. Riddle is…handsome, yes, but I think he is a cold and calculating prat. A typical Slytherin who thinks he can order anyone around, and in _my_ opinion he thinks far too highly of himself.'

The Sneakoscope, thankfully, seemed satisfied with her answer.

'Ouch!' Kay said.

'You really don't like him, do you?' Willow asked, her eyes wide with wonder.

'Now, don't tell anyone I said all of that, right, girls?' Honora said firmly. 'I don't want some Slytherin hexing me in the halls!'

'Don't worry, that's part of the rules for Secrets,' Lucy assured her.

They stayed in Honora's room until the wee hours of the morning, discussing the new developments, until 3:30 when Willow, a notorious lightweight, passed out and the other girls had to Levitate her back to their own dorm room. Honora left the mess for the house-elves and crawled into bed, head spinning. Thank heaven she did not have an early morning class the next day.

The Slug Club met in full force that Friday, and as promised, the American Connor Coppertone was there. Honora immediately distrusted the man. He was unnaturally tanned, with a shock of coiffed white hair and matching white teeth that were a little too perfect. He smiled a lot, at nothing in particular. Slughorn, however, extended a warm and boisterous greeting to Coppertone and spoke at length about the American Department of Magic and their various shared contacts there.

Coppertone, with his brash American accent, talked about his school days as Class President at the Salem Institute of Witchcraft and kept flashing smiles at the females in attendance. He also bragged about the superiority of American Auror training over their British counterparts.

'You know, we require an additional two years of training before operational status,' Coppertone said confidingly. 'And with a war on, it's best to have the best. I say, the fight against Grindelwald's forces simply did not take off until we Americans arrived on the scene.'

Honora felt a niggle of anger at this. She remembered her history. Where were the Americans during the wars with Voldemort? They had let things go too long, just as they had with Grindelwald.

She decided to speak up. 'Excuse me, sir, but it's my understanding that American Aurors did not appear in Europe to fight Grindelwald until this year past. Perhaps while they were undertaking their _additional_ training, they should have been fighting to stop the German threat before it got so out of control?' Honora made her point with a sweet, too-innocent smile.

Slughorn coughed uncomfortably. 'Er, what our dear Head Girl means, Connor, is…'

'It's all right, Sluggy,' Coppertone seemed unfazed. 'The girl has pride in her country, it's quite understandable. Cute. But, Miss--?'

'Crowley,' Honora said imperiously.

'—Miss Crowley, the fact remains that American wizards have always been the best at taking what the rest of the world does, and making it simply better.' Coppertone grinned at the end of his sentence, making it sound like a campaign speech.

'I see what you are saying, Mr. Coppertone,' Honora said. 'Yes, American wizards have always been on the cutting edge of magic essential to our existence. Skin-tanning complexion charms, for instance. Americans are great at those.'

There were gasps of horror? mirth? around the table. Honora heard a little choking noise coming from Tom Riddle's direction. She glanced at him and was surprised to see him holding back a laugh. His dark eyes twinkled at her.

Slughorn looked alarmed. 'More butterbeer, anyone?' he asked desperately. 'Connor, I'm sure the table would love to hear that wonderfully funny story of yours about the Romanian Minister for Magic and the vampire…'

Honora excused herself from the room as soon as the guests stood up from dinner and milled around, talking. The Weasley blood in her felt inordinately pleased at standing up to the American politician. She also felt warm at the thought that she had made Riddle laugh, though she did not want to contemplate why _his_ opinion mattered so much to her.

Later that night in the Ravenclaw common room, Honora was recounting the incident to Kay and Ash when Damaris burst in.

'Honora! I can't believe you said that!' She was laughing.

'Yeah, she's been telling us,' Ash said.

'I couldn't just let that…that pompous prig just get away with what he was saying!' Honora was laughing too. 'It was my duty to defend Britain.'

'You have some nerve, you know,' Kay said. 'The Undersecretary of Magic!'

Honora felt proud.

'Slughorn had to tell him you were just upset about Grindelwald's continued existence,' Damaris said. 'To be honest, I don't think Coppertone even fully understood your reference.'

'Pompous _and_ stupid,' Honora smirked. 'No wonder he's a politician.'

'Yeah, our Ministry aren't much better most of the time,' Ash agreed.

Honora bid them goodnight and was halfway up the stairs to her room when Damaris came up after her.

'Oh, Honora, I thought you should know,' Damaris began.

'Hmm?'

'I don't believe Tom Riddle thinks as badly of you as you do of him,' she said, looking meaningfully at Honora.

'What do you mean?' Honora scowled, even as her heart did a little flip.

'After you left, I overheard that nasty Slytherin, Avery, saying something really rude about you. I wasn't sure exactly what, but…anyway, Riddle really had a go at him for it. He told Avery to shut up about things he didn't know, and that he should keep his opinions to himself if he wanted to stay in _one piece_. Riddle sounded really frightening saying it. If he hadn't been defending you, Honora, I'd have been scared.'

Honora stared at Damaris. 'Are you serious? He stood up for me to one of his little Death Eater friends?'

Damaris nodded. 'So, see? He's not all bad.' She winked. 'Sweet dreams, Honora.'

'Thanks,' Honora said weakly, 'you too.'

* * *

**A/N:** Next update will be Friday the 13th…dun dun dun…my favourite day of the calendar. 


	16. Timing Is Everything

**Author's Notes:** Wow. I cannot properly express my gratitude to all my reviewers…I am just so incredibly happy that you all are enjoying my writing! Huge thanks to _Maelys, Maria8765, The Enchanted Teakettle, Phinea, All-American Vampire, Wren, blueforest, Larken27, Kiki, GoodQueenA, aarzu, LovinLovegood1, _and _Nosilla_!

There has been a lot of speculation about the fate of Honora's locket. All I can say is this: someone does have it, and it is out of her reach. Also, the situation is not as bad as some of you might think! (Yet. Ha.)

Now, this next chapter is the beginning of what is essentially a three-chapter scene. It's a big night for both them. So with no further ado, here it is!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

* * *

Recap of Chapter 15:

_Honora stared at Damaris. 'Are you serious? He stood up for me to one of his little Death Eater friends?'_

_Damaris nodded. 'So, see? He's not all bad.' She winked. 'Sweet dreams, Honora.'_

_'Thanks,' Honora said weakly, 'you too.'_

* * *

**Chapter 16**

**Timing Is Everything**

Honora had a very vivid dream that night that she was back in Polaris, except Tom Riddle was there, too. He was teaching her defensive spells because the Death Eaters were coming to get them. Freya Lief was teasing her that Tom liked her, and then Lithia Poundstone started yelling in rage. She said that Honora was supposed to marry Marlow Woden, not Tom Riddle, and that Marlow would send the Dementors after her for being such a traitor.

She woke up feeling panicked, expecting to see Dementors in her bedroom. She also felt guilty, for not feeling guilty. Marlow's death had not affected her the way that it should have. He was one of her best friends from childhood, and when she should have been mourning him she instead had been excited to be with the centaurs, excited to go back in time, excited to have her own new life. In the pre-dawn darkness of her bedroom, Honora was sure that Marlow's ghost was looking at her with sadness and disapproval.

Then she remembered that Marlow could not be a ghost; even his soul was lost to the Dementors. For some reason the thought relieved her.

_I couldn't have done different_, her head said. _I had to step up and come back in time. It's not my fault that I didn't really want to marry Marlow Woden and live the rest of my miserable little life in an underground cave_. She shrugged her bedcovers more tightly around her and tried to go back to sleep. There was nothing to be done about any of it now.

If Tom Riddle really had defended Honora to Avery, he certainly was not showing it in his everyday treatment of her. He was his usual cold, uncommunicative self during their Head duties, and he never once mentioned her funny, if ill conceived, telling-off of Connor Coppertone. To top it off, Honora felt increasingly like she had to make a move and just kill him, once and for all. The promising optimism of summer had soured, somehow, and Honora felt thwarted at every turn.

It all changed one night in late November. It was nearly midnight, and Honora had just finished her bubble bath and set her hair into its waves for the next day. She was humming around the bathroom, her fine black and gold satin kimono wrapped loosely around her figure. Honora loved the way its sleeves draped and the way it clung to her; it made her feel grown-up. She was admiring her own reflection in the mirror and trilling a Billie Holiday song to herself (Honora's voice was terribly off-key) when she heard an urgent pounding on her door.

'Honora?' Damaris was outside, sounding frantic. 'Honora! Open up!'

She wrapped her sheer kimono a bit more tightly, and with a wave of her wand removed the locking charms on her door.

To her absolute horror, Tom Riddle stepped into her room, Damaris directly behind him. His dark blue eyes met Honora's light blue ones. She was highly conscious of the fact that she was wearing nothing but a risqué, partly see-through wrap.

Tom stared at her for a moment of charged silence, and then cleared his throat, awkwardly. 'Two first-years have gone missing,' he said. 'We think they're in the Forbidden Forest.'

Honora did not say anything right away. She was mortified that he had seen her like this. 'Damaris?' she asked, peeking around Tom to her friend, who was biting her lip.

'He was sent to get you,' Damaris explained, gesturing at Tom. 'Dippet told him to, so I thought…'

'It's fine,' Honora said quickly. 'Give me one minute, and I'll be downstairs.' Damaris turned obediently and left. Honora raised her eyebrow at Tom. 'You too, Riddle.'

His lips turned up slightly, glancing at her one more time. 'As you wish.'

Honora slammed the door after him and quickly threw on some clothes and her old furs from Polaris. It was freezing outside.

The two missing first-years were Gryffindors, typically. According to their friends, the two boys, Ferriman and Fawcett, had been dared to run twenty feet into the Forbidden Forest. They had gone in as their friends watched from the castle, but had not come out. All the professors were up and Dippet mumbled directions to split up and start searching the forest. Honora noticed that Dumbledore was absent.

Tom had already severely scolded the prefects on night duty, a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff, for not paying more attention. A group of Gryffindor first-years must have made a lot of noise, he said, so why were they not caught beforehand? The prefects had shrugged sheepishly.

'Useless,' Tom muttered under his breath to Honora.

'Hufflepuffs,' she murmured back, causing him to smile a little.

Together they walked into the Forbidden Forest. It was bitter cold, and very dark. Honora could see her breath fogging around her. Crunching through the blackness, their way lit only by their wands, Honora felt a more than a little apprehensive. Suddenly she was glad that she was with Tom; after all, no creatures in the Forest could be as evil as he was, right?

'Okay, where are the little buggers?' Honora said in a low voice.

'Probably eaten by an Acromantula.'

'Riddle! There aren't Acromantulas in here, are there?'

'I think there are.' He sounded amused.

'Oh, no. I hate spiders.' Spiders really were the only creatures that truly gave Honora nightmares. They just had so many _legs_, and moved so _fast_… she shivered. Her Boggart actually took the form of a giant spider.

Deeper and deeper into the forest they moved, occasionally calling out to the first-years. The undergrowth was getting thinner. Funny little grey wisps draped from the lower branches of some of the trees.

A thought popped into Honora's head. _I could kill Riddle here, in the forest…_'Hello! Little first-years!' Honora called instead, her voice echoing.

'Gryffindor idiots!' Tom added.

'They really are.' Honora felt a bit disloyal saying it; after all, most of her Weasley ancestors had been Gryffindors, and brave ones. But, she herself was a Ravenclaw. A little inter-house teasing never hurt.

No response came from the darkness.

Suddenly, Honora glimpsed a dark, multi-legged shape scuttling through the trees ahead. She tensed immediately; it was an Acromantula, she _knew_ it was. With a whimper, she slipped her hand into Tom's. 'Did you see that?' she whispered. Her adrenaline was rushing through her blood.

Tom glanced down at her scornfully. He did not pull his hand away, however. 'I doubt there's more than one of them,' he said.

'Oh, great. Only one giant killer spider.'

'Come on.' He pulled her through the trees. More wisps appeared; Honora realised they were part of a web. This kept getting worse and worse. _If those first years are still alive, I'll kill them myself for putting me through this_.

Tom stopped abruptly, and Honora stopped, too.

A fearsome sight confronted them. A large, hairy Acromantula was industriously weaving its way around two small human-shaped lumps. Honora could just barely see their panicky faces peeking out, eyes wide with fear. The two boys were nearly covered in white, sticky material. The great spider clicked its mandibles together, sticky venom dripping from the long fangs, its grape-clustered black eyes shining in the darkness.

Tom released Honora's hand as he reached for his wand.

Honora had a wild realisation. If she Stupefied Tom now, she could leave him to be killed by the Acromantula.

She reached for her own wand.

Yes, she could Stupefy him, then attract the attention of the huge spider, and then somehow escape herself…she would run back through the woods, and hysterically explain that the spider had killed Tom Riddle. No one could possibly blame her. The hasty plan ran through her head. _It would solve all my problems! Now, now is my chance to kill Lord Voldemort!_ Honora was breathing hard as she raised her wand.

She delayed action a second too long . The best chance in months to dispose of Tom Riddle slipped through her fingers as Tom brought out his own wand and directed it at the great spider.

'_Arania Exumai_,' he whispered softly. A jet of light shot out from his wand and the Acromantula let out a startled squeal as it was thrown back from its web. Tom stepped towards it fearlessly, and ropes shot out of his wand, wrapping around the huge spider and binding its legs close together. Honora could hear its protests; the spider sounded unnervingly human-like.

While Tom took care of the Acromantula, Honora muttered to herself; her hesitation to Stupefy Tom had lost her a golden opportunity. Putting her intense disappointment aside, she used a strong cutting charm to get through the layers of sticky web to the trapped students. She peeled away layer after layer of the disgusting stuff, all the while feeling as though she could cry. Whether it was frustration, or relief that she was temporarily off the hook, Honora could not tell.

Finally, one of the little Gryffindors was free. Tom appeared at her side to free the other one, and once he was out of the web, Honora and Tom each grabbed a Gryffindor and hurried back through the forest. On the way back, Honora chastised herself internally for hesitating to do her duty. _My Weasley ancestors would be ashamed of me,_ she thought with a twist of her mouth. _But I didn't want to condemn someone to death by giant spider_, her inner voice protested. Honora wondered if she really was too weak to go through with her mission.

Sighing, Honora decided to just go back to normal for now. She would continue to gain Tom Riddle's trust. _And the next time I get the chance, I'll kill him_, she added to herself, although the thought lacked resolve.

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	17. Devil

**Author's Notes:** Again, big thanks to all my fabulous reviewers: _Maelys, lilith, LavenderBrown77, Phinea, The Enchanted Teakettle, Aarzu, Larken27, All-American Vampire, Wren, GoodQueenA, Kiki, LovinLovegood1, Ni-chan1, Lauren, twighunter, _and _vegetatingkadoodle!_

I'm re-posting this chapter, as yesterday ffnet was not picking upanyone's updates...I think it's working now, for those of you who have this story on alert, sorry for the double message!

The quote is from Napoleon Dynamite, I couldn't resist.There's also a nod in here to the classic film 'A Christmas Story.' Aaaand…here we go. Will the Real Tom Riddle please stand up.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

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**Chapter 17**

**Devil**

Several minutes of walking later, Tom, Honora, and the two first-years found their path back through to Forbidden Forest, Honora glancing behind them occasionally for signs of the Acromantula. Tom shot up green sparks from his wand, signifying that they had found the first-years. When they got out of the forest, most of the professors had re-gathered.

'We found them,' Honora announced. 'Barely alive.'

'They were about to be consumed by an Acromantula,' Tom explained. He glanced over at the half-giant, Hagrid, who glowered back. Honora rarely saw Rubeus Hagrid, but she did know that he would be a major member of the Order of the Phoenix later on. She felt sorry for him that he had been framed by Tom.

Ferriman and Fawcett jumped forward towards Madame Wimple, the infirmary nurse. She whisked them away brusquely.

'Well done, both of you,' Headmaster Dippet said. He dismissed them back to the school, and Honora felt a little put out. They had just confronted a huge, scary spider, saved two lives, and all Dippet could say was 'well done'? He really was a moron.

'Will they be expelled?' Honora asked Tom as they walked back to the school.

'Undoubtedly,' Tom replied.

Honora was not sorry for them. They had broken several major rules, and had endangered her by forcing her to go after them in a scary Forbidden Forest. 'You were pretty good back there, Tom. I mean, I didn't know that spell, I wouldn't have known what to do.'

'You really shouldn't be afraid of Acromantulas. As you witnessed, they are not all that difficult to deal with.' Tom sounded pleased with her compliment in spite of himself.

'Ugh. There's no way I'll be able to sleep now. I'll be thinking there are giant spiders sneaking up on me in my room.' Honora was struck with an idea. 'Let's get the house elves to make us hot chocolate. I think we deserve it.'

Tom hesitated. 'Well…'

'Oh, come on. You can't tell me you don't like chocolate, because I know better!'

'All right,' Tom acquiesced. He had a strange tone to his voice, a kind of uncertainty she had never heard before.

They went to the Head common room and conjured up a roaring fire as a house-elf appeared with two large, steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Tom and Honora sat side by side in comfortable armchairs. Honora felt warm and safe now that she was back inside the castle. It was hard to believe that only an hour ago, she had almost gone through with arranging Tom's death.

'What are you doing for Christmas?' Honora asked him, settling back into her chair.

'Staying here.'

'Oh. Me, too. It's hard not having family to go to.'

Tom made a non-committal noise.

'How about after? I mean, what do you want to do with your life?' Honora tried to keep the trepidation out of her voice as she asked. It would not do for him to declare himself Lord Voldemort, future evil dictator.

Glancing over at her, Tom shrugged slightly. 'I think I might continue the alchemical research,' he said. 'You know, with Flamel.'

'Oh! Yes, I would, if I were you. It sounds far too important to discontinue.' Honora was relieved. Apparently Tom had been kept so busy over the summer with Hermetic texts that he hadn't had time to make Horcruxes or plot his world takeover.

'And you?' Tom interrupted her thoughts.

Honora's face lit up. 'I want to be a Curse-breaker,' she announced dramatically. 'One of my ancestors was one.' Her mind turned briefly to her lost locket with Bill Weasley's picture, a tiny twist of guilt momentarily pinching her heart. 'And I think Curse-breaking sounds like so much fun.'

'Why?'

'Because I crave power, glory, and wealth,' Honora divulged. She gasped inwardly at herself; she had not even realised that she wanted those things. _Why try to fool myself_, she thought, _I know it's true._

Tom laughed, strong and genuine. 'At least you're up front about it. You really _should_ have been in Slytherin.'

'Oh, there you go, taking credit for all vast ambition,' Honora teased. 'I just hide it from most people!'

'But not from me?' Tom raised an eyebrow at her.

'Why bother? I'm sure you are even worse.'

'You're right.'

The light from the fire flickered across Honora's face as she smiled at him. 'No wonder we're friends,' she said matter-of-factly, giving Tom no room to argue.

'So you're afraid of Acromantulas, but not of the monsters that guard tombs? Deadly curses? Vampires and mummies and sphinxes?'

'Sphinxes don't bother me.'

'And why not?'

'I'm good at cracking Riddles.' A wicked grin spread across Honora's face.

Tom's eyes darkened and he smiled back, lazily. 'You think so?'

'Mmhmm.'

'Try this one: Until I am measured I am not known, Yet how you miss me when I have flown.'

Honora's ice blue eyes glittered with the challenge. 'Until...measured…miss me when I have flown…' she repeated the riddle to herself. Pressing her lips together, she thought about it for several seconds. What had to be measured? What flies?

'Time!' she blurted out. Tom had chosen a riddle close to her heart, indeed.

'Very good!' Tom flashed a grin at her, white teeth in darkness.

'So what do I get, now that I've answered correctly?'

'Nothing. You should have set the terms before.'

They lapsed into a companionable silence, the fire crackled, and Honora could see by the small clock on the other wall that time had flown to three in the morning.

She laughed out loud, remembering a funny story she had read in the Daily Prophet. 'Did you see that story about the Ministry worker training to be an Animagus? He had placed a bet that he would turn into a noble, strong bear. Of course, since you never know what kind of animal you'll turn into…'

'And he turned into a river trout instead! Yes,' Tom chuckled with her.

'Serves him right,' said Honora.

'How do you know you wouldn't turn into a cold fish?' he teased.

'I wouldn't! I would be a beautiful, dangerous creature if I were an Animagus,' Honora sniffed, unable to quite keep a smile off her face.

'Like what?' Tom scoffed.

'Like…um…a liger!' Honora bared her teeth, and made funny claws in Tom's direction.

He stared at her like she had gone insane. 'A what?'

'A liger. You know, a cross between a lion and a tiger, bred for its skills in magic.' Honora giggled madly at Tom's expression.

'Right.' He shook his head sceptically, amusement playing on his lips. 'What is your Patronus, then, Honora?'

'A raven, actually.'

'How fitting for a Ravenclaw. Can you guess mine?'

'Easily. Your Patronus is a snake.'

Tom smiled. 'Is it that obvious?'

'What else for the Heir of Slyth—' Honora stopped talking.

_Oh fu-udge…_

Tom seemed to turn into a stone statue. He stared at her, unmoving, unblinking, for what seemed an eternity.

'That is, um…' Honora could not find a way to conceal her slip of the tongue.

'How do you know about that?' Tom spoke with deadly calm.

Honora wanted to crawl into the floor. How could she be so careless? No one else in this time knew that Tom Riddle was the Heir of Slytherin. Frantically she tried to think of some way to explain herself. At a loss, she did the only thing she could think of: she blamed Albus Dumbledore. 'I didn't know, I mean, not for sure…until now,' Honora stammered. 'Dumbledore. He's the one who guessed it.'

Tom's dark eyes seemed to go right into her as he stood up, looming tall. 'Dumbledore. So you're his little spy, are you? Have you been telling him things about me? Is that why you eavesdrop on my conversations whenever you get the chance?'

_Oh, dear Lord, he sounds _angry.

'No!' Honora protested, standing up herself. 'I'm not Dumbledore's spy. He hardly trusts me any more than he does you. And I eavesdrop on everyone, that's how I heard about you being the Heir,' Honora lied. 'Dumbledore was talking to that _bird_ of his, you know, the phoenix. He didn't tell me anything about you, Tom.'

'Oh, I'm sure,' Tom's voice cut through the air in disbelief.

Honora knew he was going to do it. She could feel his intent, and closed her memories just in time. It was time to test her real skill at Occlumency.

Keeping eye contact, she let Tom Riddle go through her selected thoughts, let certain things float to the surface. Everything about Polaris, her mission, and his own future as Lord Voldemort, she kept locked away tight.

Tom got a sour look on his face as he did not find anything to contradict her story. 'So that's it?' He sounded most unsatisfied.

'That's it.' Honora tried to make amends. 'Tom, you can tell me about it, you know. I've already heard from my friends about what happened two years ago, with the monster in the school.'

'You don't know the half of it,' Tom snapped. 'You have no idea. Do you even understand what it's like, being a half-blood and being in Slytherin? The utter _disgust_ for my _Muggle_ father for spoiling everything like that? No, of course you don't. You're a pure-blood, and everything is just fine for you.'

'How can you say that!' Honora was starting to match his anger. 'My parents are dead, too! Just because I'm a pure-blood doesn't mean that everything is perfect! My ancestry does not change the fact that I am an _orphan_ and that until this past year, my life was a living hell, cold and fearful and dark!' She took a deep breath. 'But I'm not going to play this little game with you, Tom, debating _who has suffered more_. NO. I think you need to get over yourself and start taking responsibility for what you did.'

'What I did? Oh, that just goes to show how naïve you really are. Put yourself in my place for half a second, Honora. Say you were abandoned to rot in a Muggle orphanage, cast off by society. Say you were sorted into Slytherin house, where they can _smell_ dirty blood from a mile away. And say that you discovered that you, a complete nobody, were actually the sole _heir_ to one of the Founders of this school!'

Tom's manner blazed with fury. She had never seen him so upset as he ranted. 'Heir of Salazar Slytherin, the greatest wizard who ever lived! A wizard who had left a chamber accessible only to _you_, with a monster only _you_ could befriend and control.' He was breathing hard. 'Tell me, Honora, would you just let that go? Tell me you wouldn't be curious, and that you wouldn't step up to claim the title that was rightfully yours!'

Honora gaped at him. He had totally lost it. Tom Riddle's eyes were a storm of rage, his handsome face flushed, his fists clenched tightly. The fire whipped harshly behind him, as if blown by a wind. At that moment, she was so scared of him she wanted to pass out. But as he spoke his last sentence, something got through to her. Wouldn't she be curious? If she were the Heir of Slytherin, would she have opened the Chamber of Secrets? _Yes_, her heart said.

'Yes,' Honora said in a small voice. 'Yes, I would have.'

Tom was silent for a moment. He was still staring at her, but seemed to know she was telling him the truth. 'I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt,' he said. 'That girl who was killed – it was an accident. And framing that oaf Hagrid – well, I had to do something. But that doesn't mean I feel guilty about it,' he finished. 'I suppose you think I'm a wicked person for that.'

'No, I don't. I know what it's like, accidents happen.'

'How could you know what it's like?' Tom retorted sarcastically.

'Something similar happened to me, once,' Honora said slowly. She knew she could tell Tom about Marlow Woden; he was probably the one person who had no grounds on which to judge her. 'See, where I used to live…' she paused, thinking about how to word things. It would not do to explain about Polaris and the Shadow Kingdoms. 'There was a small community of us, living underground, hiding from Grindelwald's forces in Europe. You've no idea how bad it is there.'

Tom's expression of anger cooled as she talked.

'Anyway, I had grown up underground, and these people were like my family, all of them. And I had a friend. His name was Marlow Woden. Everyone said we would get married someday; I never really thought that. He was a bit…boring.' She let out a short, humourless laugh. 'One night, he declared his feelings for me and I told him to take a walk. I didn't want anything to do with him. I was cold to him, even though he was my friend, someone I'd grown up with. So he did. He took a walk, straight up outside. The enemy forces were there…and he was kissed by a Dementor. _His soul was sucked out_, Tom. And it was my fault.' Honora finished her story, putting her hands to her temples. She had never told anyone about it, not even Damaris or Kay.

'Did you feel guilty about it?' Tom asked.

Honora shook her head. '_No_,' she whispered. 'And I should have. But I didn't. I was glad it wasn't me, and I was glad to be still alive, with a future.'

'Maybe we're more alike than I thought,' Tom said in a low voice.

Honora's eyes shot up to meet his. Now _that_ was something she had not considered. But when he said it, she realised he was right. They were alike. Ambitious, skilled, clever, ruthlessly alive…Honora shuddered. The fact of it was that _Lord Voldemort_ was her perfect match.

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**A/N:** Please let me know what you thought! Next update (and final part of this scene) will be up in two days. 


	18. Turnover

**Author's Notes: **Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed! _All-American Vampire, TeenageZombie, larken27, The Enchanted Teakettle, ChuckTheGingy, deepeningblue, Phinea, Odessa, Aarzu, Wren, blueforest,_ _Autumn Faery,_ and _SarahC.E._, you guys are wonderful.

Enjoy this last chapter, in which Riddle continues to reveal himself. For more yummy psycho-analysis, I've included some notes at the bottom of this chapter about Tom's revelations here.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

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Recap of Chapter 19: 

'_Maybe we're more alike than I thought,' Tom said in a low voice._

_Honora's eyes shot up to meet his. Now that was something she had not considered. But when he said it, she realised he was right. They were alike. Ambitious, skilled, clever, ruthlessly alive…Honora shuddered. The fact of it was that Lord Voldemort was her perfect match.

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_

**Chapter 18**

**Turnover**

Honora and Tom stared at each other.

'Tom,' she began softly.

'There's something else,' Tom said. He took a breath. 'This ring is proof of my _magical _lineage,' he said, holding it up. 'And I'm the one who took it from my worthless uncle on the night I killed my father.'

Honora's eyes widened in horror. _Oh, for heaven's _sake. _Now he feels like telling me everything. He's confessing murder to me. Pretty soon he'll ask me if I want to join the Death Eaters_.

'That's right. I killed my father, and my grandparents. I walked up to their big beautiful Muggle house, and walked in on their elegant dinner, and I killed them. And I was happy to do it. Shocks you, doesn't it? Makes you scared? You must think I'm a monster,' Tom spat venomously. 'Well, time to face facts, little girl. I am.' He was bragging now.

Honora was scared stiff, determined not to show it but failing miserably. 'You killed your own father, just like that. Did you plan it out, Tom? Did you plan it in your mind, over and over, until you got to his house?' Her voice was shaky and her hands clasped together, knuckles white, as she prepared to listen to the confessions of someone who was a violent sociopath, disturbed in ways she could not possibly understand.

'I went looking for my uncle. He was the one who told me my father was a Muggle,' Tom said. 'Until that night, I had wondered if my father was a wizard. But no. I discovered that my wealthy, snobbish Muggle father had been alive all that time, had abandoned my mother; he wanted nothing to do with me. He deserved the death he got.' Tom's voice was clinical, remorseless as he continued to speak. 'That's right, my only family was a psychotic uncle and a filthy Muggle father. I disposed of them both. I cleansed my life. I murdered my father and framed my uncle Morfin for it, who was sent to Azkaban. And I'm glad I did it.' He laughed, high and cold. 'So what do you think of that, Honora Crowley? Surely not even you can find an excuse.'

Tears welled in Honora's eyes, fear and pity mingled together. No, there was no excuse. But Tom Riddle had not pre-meditated the murders, either. She could only imagine the rejection, the fury he must have felt that night, when Morfin told him how his father had abandoned him to a miserable life in an orphanage, and lived in a house nearby. Really, Tom just had anger issues.

'How did it happen, Tom?' Honora asked as gently as she could. 'Did your father know who you were?'

Tom stared, disbelieving, that she would not back down or run away or call him evil. 'I didn't plan it,' he whispered hoarsely, finally breaking a little. 'I wanted to confront him, show him what he had done. Then, when he realised…he called me a freak. He laughed at me… At _me_! When I am better than he will ever be.

'I was the superior Tom Riddle, and he had the audacity to—it was then I realised that the only way for me to exact my revenge was to kill him. Of course, I had to kill my grandparents, as well…they were witnesses. I implanted Morfin's mind with the confession. He deserved it, he was unworthy of the Slytherin line. I took the ring so I would never forget.' Tom's face was twisted with pain and calculation, the psychosis within uncoiling on his features.

Honora's heart wrenched in empathy for him, overwhelming her fear. She could not quite believe she felt sorry for Tom Riddle, a.k.a. Lord Voldemort, already a multiple murderer. Yet, she did. It seemed like such a terrible accident, circumstances that had conspired against the little child that had been Tom Riddle. Life had not treated him well and he responded the only way he knew how. He learned not to feel, to channel his power and anger and became a manipulative, charming man with nothing but darkness inside.

She stepped towards him. Tom would not look at her.

'It's all right,' Honora whispered. 'It's all right, Tom.' She took his hands in her own and let her head fall gently on his chest. She was not sure where she had stopped _pretending_ to be his friend and started _being_ his friend.

His hands clasped more tightly around hers, and he let his chin rest on the top of her head. They stood like that in silence for a long time. It was nearly four in the morning when Honora and Tom said a quiet, meaningful 'goodnight' and Honora went to bed.

* * *

After that night, everything was different between them. 

Tom spent more time in their Head common room. Honora also started going there to study, instead of the library. At meals, he met her eyes from the Slytherin table, and she would smile and wave at him. During their night patrols and Head duties, they would actually chat. They discussed their classes most of the time; sometimes they talked about new magical theories or old magical theories or both. Oftentimes they went over the mysteries of the Hermetic texts and the various ways the secret coded cipher might be uncovered.

The subjects of the Chamber of Secrets and Tom's father were never mentioned or even approached. Honora was afraid to say anything to him and Tom seemed to feel he had said too much already. However, they settled into an uneasy peace, a tentative friendship, over the course of the winter.

For Honora, things had never been clearer. She decided to try an experiment; could she alter the future not by killing Tom Riddle, but by changing him? Could he be turned from his dark path? At this point, Honora was invested in him. She had let herself start to care about him, and it seemed grossly unfair to just kill someone without allowing them the opportunity to become someone different. She had to give Tom the chance to redeem himself. If he could not… well, she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

Damaris again invited Honora to stay with the Turpins, this time for Christmas, but Honora declined. She wanted to stay at Hogwarts, not just because she had told Tom that she would, but because it was her last year. Honora wanted to spend as much precious time at the beloved school as she could. Damaris seemed to understand.

'I wouldn't want to eat my Aunt Lucinda's attempts at making mince pie either,' Damaris said. 'My mum always tells her to let the house-elves do it, and Lucinda always insists on trying it herself. It's disastrous. My memories of Christmas always have a slightly burnt smell to them!'

Lawrence Carter _was_ going home with Damaris for Christmas. With trepidation, Damaris had agreed that it was time he met her parents officially. Honora had laughed; Lawrence was so all-around nice that she could not imagine Mr. and Mrs. Turpin finding anything to disapprove of. Honora felt in a much better mood about Damaris and Lawrence's imminent engagement; for some reason she could not imagine herself with a boy like Lawrence anymore. She wanted her dearest friends to be happy together, and showed this by teasing them about their relentless hand-holding.

The last hurrah of the term was, as usual, the Hogsmeade weekend in December. Honora put on woollen skirt and scarf and a thick, swinging coat and tramped through the snow to the Three Broomsticks with a huge group of friends. For the boys, all the talk was on Quidditch; Honora tuned out as Ash got into an argument with John Parrish, Kay's Hufflepuff, about the relative merits of South Africa's Beater technique against Australia's aggressive use of their Seeker.

'Boys and Quidditch,' Honora rolled her eyes to Damaris. 'I'll never understand it.'

'I like Quidditch,' Damaris said.

'No, you like Lawrence playing Quidditch,' Kay said.

'True,' Damaris conceded.

'Even I'll admit it builds muscle quite nicely,' Honora said with a dreamy smile. For some reason, a memory flitted across her mind of that frightening dance she'd shared with Tom Riddle at the Salvation Ball last year. 'But I'd rather get an athletic workout in other ways.'

'Honora!' Portia overheard and looked appalled.

'Get your mind out of the gutter, Gryffindor!' Honora taunted good-naturedly. 'I meant things like hill-walking or swimming in the lake.'

'Oh!' Portia blushed. 'I guess I've just been spending too much time with Frank.'

'Oooh! Tell us about Frank!' the girls chorused, a little too loudly.

Frank Finnigan glanced over at them, looking worried.

Portia would not say anything more after that.

Having warmed herself with two butterbeers, Honora left the pub to do her Christmas shopping. Her girl friends were easy to shop for; things like stationary, coloured quills, and little accessories were always popular. The boys were a bit more difficult. In the end she settled on sweets from Honeydukes for them. Finally, Honora went to the post office. She had written to Obscurus Books, the publishing firm on Diagon Alley, to inquire about a copy of a rare text.

It was the Kybalion, the only known relic of the great founder of the Hermetic tradition, the wizard Hermes Trismegistus. At least fifteen copies were known to exist, but they were still exceedingly rare to find. Honora thought it was the only book that could possibly hold a clue to the cipher in Nicolas Flamel's papers. Of course, she figured Flamel had seen the Kybalion, but Honora planned to give the tome as a Christmas gift to Tom Riddle. Perhaps with constant access to it, he would figure out the puzzle, discover the secret code, and go further along the path to using love as greatest strength. She had received an owl from Obscurus the week before; they had acquired a copy for her but the cost was 100 Galleons. They would send the book to her upon receipt of payment.

She had initially balked at the price. Honora only had 176 Galleons left for the entire year. But then, what did she expect for such a rare book? _I'll just have to get a job after graduation. Right away_. She had replied to Obscurus with her 100 Galleons attached before she could change her mind.

To her dismay, the Kybalion had not yet arrived, but a small note from the proprietor at Obscurus told her, with his regrets, that the book would not be available until the 28th of December – three days after Christmas. With a sigh of irritation, Honora sent an owl back, instructing them to send the text directly to her at Hogwarts as soon as possible. She would have to make it a New Year's gift for Tom.

At the end of the day in Hogsmeade, Honora met up with Kay for the walk back up to Hogwarts through the snow. Kay asked her if, as Head Girl, she had any idea where their Transfiguration teacher had gone.

'Dumbledore? No, he's been gone off and on all year,' Honora replied. 'I have no idea what he's up to.' That was not strictly true. Honora had a strong suspicion that Dumbledore was off doing something about the Dark wizard Grindelwald.

'Do you think he's off doing something about Grindelwald?' Kay suggested.

Honora smiled. Apparently it wasn't that much of a secret. 'I think it's a definite possibility.'

'I heard a rumour amongst the Gryffindors that he was,' Kay said. 'Not that I believe rumours. I believe evidence. But the way the Muggle war is going, and now Dumbledore on all these extended absences…I think we're on the brink of winning.'

'Really? What's happening on the Muggle side?'

'After D-Day – that was the invasion this summer, you know – we have been sweeping across Europe. We've liberated most of France, Belgium…the Germans are collapsing really fast. And that must mean that Grindelwald will go soon, too. Oh, Honora, it must make you happy! I mean, Grindelwald's goons killed your family. The Germans put you in exile. So it must be great, eh?'

'Yeah!' Honora nodded. 'It is. Dark wizards need to go down.'

'It's true,' Kay agreed. 'I'm just glad for the prospect of peace. Three of my Muggle cousins are in the Army, fighting…it'll be good for everyone if Grindelwald is defeated, and his Nazi puppets too.'

Honora had not realised that Kay had family fighting in Europe. Muggles, even; life was dangerous for them. _Dark wizards cause so much trouble_. _If only they would all just curl up and go away._ It was wishful thinking. 'I hope your cousins come out of it all right,' she said to Kay, squeezing her hand for comfort.

* * *

In addition to Dumbledore's absence, not many students were staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. When the Hogwarts Express left bearing the student body home for the holidays, Honora was nearly alone in Ravenclaw Tower. Only a few third-years and Ash Wynn stayed. She and Ash took to playing games of chess in the common room; Honora felt she should not leave her friend with third-years for company. 

However, she was incensed to discover that several seventh-year Slytherins had stayed over, other than Tom Riddle, that is. Antonin Dolohov, Michel Rosier, and Ian Avery were all there for Christmas, as was Olive Hornby.

Honora did not like Olive Hornby and the feeling was mutual. Olive was a cruel, mocking girl who seemed to get her kicks out of mercilessly teasing the weak and stupid. In other words, she was a typical Slytherin. She was somewhat pretty; her dark, coarse hair offset her small upturned nose and full lips that were always painted red. Honora had disliked her intensely ever since Olive had made a nasty comment about Kay's dress at the Turpins' summer garden party. Her behaviour at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was not forgotten, either.

What was especially annoying about Olive Hornby was that she threw herself at Tom Riddle every chance she got.

For the Christmas feast, Honora wore a red dress and resolved that _she_ was the Head Girl and Tom was Head Boy and they would be sitting together. There was nowhere she would rather be on that Christmas of 1944; Hogwarts was now her home in a way that, strangely, Polaris had never been. Honora got a small twinge of sadness thinking about her grandmother's Christmas 150 years in the future. She wished she had her gold locket to gaze at; in its absence she had no pictures of her family. _Happy Christmas, Grandmother_, she thought to herself. With a glint of a tear, Honora realised she could not quite remember what Eleanor looked like. She could, however, remember her grandmother's voice, and the way she had hugged her, in that Siberian forest. Shrugging it off before she got weepy-eyed, Honora went downstairs to the common room.

'Honora! You look, um, really pretty!' Ash Wynn was waiting for her.

'Thank you!'

Ash took her arm and they walked down to the Great Hall. It was decorated with twelve enormous Christmas trees that twinkled with lights. Enchanted snow fell from the ceiling and garlands of holly were swagged along the walls. Christmas music drifted in from somewhere. A single long table was set in the middle of the room; on Christmas Day the students and staff all ate together. Several people already mingled in the room, drinking wassail, pumpkin juice, or brandy.

A wide smile spread across Honora's face. She loved holidays. It all felt so special. She chose a glass of wassail and joined Professors Merrythought and Drakkis. Drakkis, the head of Ravenclaw House, was a tall, thin, dour man of high intelligence.

'Our Head Girl here is one of my best students in Arithmancy,' Drakkis said in a rare display of outward approval. It must have been the holiday spirit.

'Well, she is one of _my_ best students in Defence Against the Dark Arts,' Merrythought added. 'Miss Crowley, have you thought about becoming an Auror? You seem to have made up defensive spells that no one has ever thought of before. It's truly amazing.'

Honora smiled sweetly. She could not take credit for the spells she knew; they were merely the result of future centuries of magical evolution. 'I do enjoy Defence,' she said to Merrythought. 'But I'm actually considering becoming a Curse-breaker. That way, I can use my skills at Defence Against the Dark Arts in combination with other things.'

'Good choice,' Drakkis nodded his head. 'Arithmancy is an essential skill in Curse-breaking. Many of the older tombs, especially in Asia, use a highly complex mathematical basis for their protection.'

Merrythought chuckled and shook her head. 'But, Miss Crowley, think of the good you could do for the world by becoming an Auror! I can think of no more important task than stopping Dark wizards.'

As he said it, Honora saw Tom Riddle walk into the Great Hall, trailed by his small pack of Slytherins.

'I agree with you, Professor,' Honora said to Merrythought. 'But there are many ways to work against Dark forces.' She smiled to herself.

'That's right, Galatea, let the girl be,' Drakkis said gruffly.

Excusing herself from her professors before they could start arguing, Honora sauntered up to Tom Riddle. He turned and his eyes widened slightly when he saw her.

'Honora,' he greeted her, with a little smile on his lips.

'Tom,' she smiled back. 'Happy Christmas.'

'And you.'

She leaned in towards him conspiratorially. 'You'll never guess what I sent to Dippet, anonymously.'

Tom groaned. 'What?'

'Well, you know how he loves licorice?'

'Yes…'

'Well, I sent him Steamer Sticks, disguised in a package from Honeydukes. They'll make hot steam blow out his ears as soon as he takes a bite!'

Tom snickered. 'You didn't.'

'I did!' Honora giggled. 'I hope he opens them in plain sight of everyone.'

'Well, maybe it'll clear his head of all that hot air,' Tom said.

They sat next to each other at dinner. Honora was pleased that Olive Hornby was stuck at the other end of the table, and Tom did not seem to be paying Olive any attention. The feast was wonderful; roast duck, goose, and turkey; cranberry sauce and potatoes and vegetables. Honora and Tom kept up an ongoing commentary on the food, the drink, the other guests, and the potential whereabouts of Dumbledore.

'You must be glad if he's off to defeat Grindelwald,' Tom said.

'Of course. I would be ecstatic to see one more Dark wizard bite the dust.'

'Come, now, Honora. The Dark Arts can be very useful.' Tom glanced at her. 'Only the best wizards can approach them.'

'Perhaps, but they always get burned in the end. To know about the Dark Arts and come out of it, _soul intact_,' Honora emphasised her words, 'takes a great deal of self-control and focus. Most wizards lack that.'

'Hmm. So you're not opposed to the Dark Arts, as long as they're controlled?'

Honora thought over her response carefully. 'I think it's good to know your enemy. Knowledge is power. However, I would learn the Dark Arts only to find new ways of circumventing them entirely.'

'Like transmutation,' Tom quirked an eyebrow at her. 'Changing the very nature of the soul and its relationship to magic.'

'Exactly. I don't think any of the Dark Arts can come close to what Hermetic alchemy might achieve…if it's properly applied,' Honora said with conviction. In a flash of comprehension, she understood what Dumbledore had done by sending Tom Riddle to Nicolas Flamel as an apprentice. He had turned Tom away from evil magic like Horcruxes and set him on the biggest challenge of all: enlightening the soul for true immortality. Honora knew that Hermetic mysticism was anything but Dark magic; its entire basis was the oneness of universal love.

If Tom Riddle had really paid attention to Nicolas Flamel, she mused, perhaps he had changed his mind about other things, too. With a lift of her spirits, Honora thought that Tom might be open to seeking other kinds of immortality, through love, just like Flamel had done. She could not affect his ultimate goals, but perhaps she could affect the means he used to attain them. It was a beautiful thought for Christmas Day.

The main course disappeared before them and a host of amazing desserts suddenly appeared. Honora's eyes lit up. She helped herself to sticky toffee pudding, along with apple crumble and an exquisite-looking crème brulee.

Tom gaped at her. 'Didn't you get enough to eat?'

'Tom, don't be silly. Everyone has a separate compartment for dessert.'

He laughed at her. 'No they don't!'

Honora held her nose in the air. 'Well, maybe not _you_,' she said haughtily, then flashed him a dazzling smile as she dug into her sticky toffee pudding.

* * *

**A/N**: _Yes, Tom confessed a great deal to Honora in these past three chapters. As we all know from books 2 and 4,, Riddle/Voldemort has always had a penchant for long-winded, dramatic speeches. This is no exception. _

_I firmly believe that Tom's character is such that he wants a perverse sort of credit for the things he's done; he wants people to know that he's the Heir of Slytherin, that he was powerful enough to murder his own father, etc. I think it bothered him that he never was able to step forward and claim those things openly. For instance, when you look at sociopathic criminals, many of them seem to almost want to be caught. They want people to be afraid of them, and to brag about the things they've done. Thus, Honora's slip of the tongue last chapter gave Tom the opportunity to let it all out, which he did. _

_Also…I re-read the canon on this, and I do not believe Tom Riddle pre-planned the murder of his father and grandparents. He tracked down Morfin Gaunt, and it all just went downhill from there. I think it is plausible that his Muggle father, Tom Riddle Sr., did not give poor Tom the best reception…a dangerous thing to do indeed! So the whole thing is so sad really. _


	19. Hope at Midnight

**Author's Notes:** As usual, my deep gratitude to my reviewers: _Larken27, Firithnovwen, The Enchanted Teakettle, LovinLovegood1, Maelys, Autumn Faery, blueforest, Odessa, Wren, All-American Vampire, Nattle and Sage, Lily, Aarzu, LavenderBrown77, _and _Phinea._

And, an important explanation for a key part of the story: The Kybalion, to which I keep referring, is an actual text outlining the principles of Hermetic mysticism. The purpose of Hermetic alchemy is to 'transmute' the soul by piercing the illusion of physical reality, and finding God/enlightenment. To do so, Hermetic mystics adhere to a set of tenets best described by the following: 'As Above, So Below,' meaning all things in the universe are connected and one within the mind of God. When enlightenment is achieved, things like matter and even death become irrelevant…hence what I believe the foundation of Flamel's Elixir of Life must be.

Anyway, that's the background…enjoy this chapter as things start to heat up.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

* * *

**Chapter 19**

**Hope at Midnight**

Most of the students arrived back at Hogwarts in time for New Years, ringing goodbye to the year 1944. With a small measure of surprise, Honora realised that she had been back in time for nearly a year and a half. _And the rest of my life to go_, she thought.

Fortunately, the Kybalion arrived by owl the morning of December 29th. Honora quickly took it and went back to her room, so no one had time to ask her what the big package was.

Because so many students were back, an impromptu New Years party was arranged for the Great Hall. Honora, who loved parties, thought it was a splendid idea. Damaris and Lawrence giggled together about New Years kisses, and the house-elves kept the mistletoe floating about the castle. Kay got a perky, tight-lipped expression whenever anyone mentioned John Parrish, and Willow secured herself a date from the Gryffindor side of the fence. Most of the boys and girls were just showing up as themselves, of course; the party was too last-minute to worry about dates.

The night of December 31st, however, when Willow brought out one of her party dresses to show the girls, she kept hinting to Honora about Head Boy-Head Girl fraternisation.

Honora wondered if Tom Riddle would show up with Olive Hornby again. She hoped not. Remembering their sweet little Christmas dinner conversation, Honora made sure to dress to the nines for New Years. _Why do I care so much about what Tom thinks, anyway? He's my friend_. Honora did not want to dwell too much on it. _It's just that I don't want that Olive Hornby upstaging me in any way. It could be all girls at the party, and I would still dress up_.

Satisfied with herself, Honora swept her red hair up into glossy movie-star curls (Kay had shown her the look in a Muggle magazine) and put in elegant dangling pearl earrings. Her dress was a lovely ice blue silk that matched the colour of her eyes exactly. She thought with a familiar pang toward her lost gold locket, and remembered her great-great-grandmother, the incomparably beautiful Fleur Delacour. 'Thank you, grandmother Fleur, for that tiny little touch of Veela blood,' Honora said fervently. Then she giggled, a little madly.

She planned to give Tom his gift later that night, in their common room. A shiver of anticipation went through her when she thought of his reaction. For all his popularity and charm and Slytherin followers/Death Eaters who worshipped him, Tom Riddle was a bookworm at heart. He would love his gift…

Honora smacked herself in the forehead with her hand. _How could I be such a dolt?_ She had completely forgotten. In McGonagall's book, in her briefings with the centaurs and Julius Talbot, in 2112, she had read that Tom Riddle was born on December 31st, 1926. Today he turned eighteen. 'A birthday present! Even better!' Honora said out loud. She grabbed her little clutch and headed downstairs to meet up with her friends for the party.

The Great Hall was full of students. The tables were pushed casually to the sides, and loaded with hors d'oeuvres and sweets. Someone had strung little lights and suspended them from the rafters. A warm, dim glow suffused the room from the burning torches and candles. The Ravenclaw girls swept in as a pack, some with boys on their arms. Honora scanned the room, unconsciously looking for Tom Riddle, and she spotted his meticulously groomed black-haired head amongst a company of Slytherins. She was longing to speak with him.

As if sensing her stare, Tom turned and met Honora's eyes across the room. Perhaps she was imagining it in the dim light, but she thought she saw him light up just a little. _No, it's my imagination. The Dark Lord does not 'light up' at the sight of me_. Regardless, she gave a little wave and a wink.

As the party went along, she and Tom did not speak, but she kept catching him looking at her. And, to be honest with herself, she kept looking at him too. It was hard not to; Tom Riddle was so attractive, marble skin sculpted into hollow-cheeked perfection. _It's just aesthetic appreciation_, Honora told herself. Besides, it was more than that: he was now her friend, and Honora wanted to make sure he was happy, that he was having a good time on his birthday. She was not ready to confront the reason why she got that pleasant warmth when she met Tom's eye; why she became so aware of her own body when he watched her; why she tried so hard to look beautiful in his presence.

Finally, at a rare moment when Honora was standing alone, she saw Tom extricate himself from his group of Slytherins and work his way towards her, expression stern, moving with such confident grace that the other students automatically moved out of his way. His eyes did not leave Honora's face as he came closer.

He stood before her, silent and still, and a glimmer of uncertainty swept across his countenance, gone so fast it might have been unreal. Tom opened his mouth to say something. Then he closed it again.

'Rendered speechless, Tom?' Honora grinned at him.

He grinned back, splitting his face into wicked handsomeness. 'Hardly,' he replied, his tone wry.

'Happy birthday.'

'Thank you. I didn't realise you knew.'

'I have my sources.' Honora twirled the rim of her punch glass with her finger. 'So…do you have a date for your birthday?'

Tom glanced down at her, serious once again. 'No. No date,' he said quietly. He shifted back and forth on his feet for a second, then cleared his throat tentatively, hopefully. 'Maybe, uh, you could—'

'Honora!' Ash Wynn bounded up to her at the worst possible moment, trailed by Kay and Damaris. 'You won't believe it, the Gryffindors have swindled Lawrence into a bet about who can race their brooms to the top of the Astronomy tower and back – you have to see this!'

Tom stepped back slightly, removing himself from the conversation. Honora glared at Ash with all of her might. 'And _what_ makes you think that I _care_?' she said testily, teeth gritted.

'Well, it's crazy!' Ash was going on about the bet, oblivious to Honora's clear look of impatience.

Bad went to worse in a slow-motion sequence. With Honora's attention turned, Olive Hornby swooped in and grasped Tom's arm, pullinghim away with her, along with some of the other Slytherins. Honora gaped and turned back towards Tom, but it was too late. She could only watch as Olive led Tom straight under a dangling bunch of white-berry mistletoe.

'Oho, Tom and Olive!' Avery wolf-whistled. The Slytherins were grinning lecherously; that vile Raoul Lestrange waggled his eyebrows back over at Honora. Olive, for her part, pressed herself closer to Tom, looking up and pursing her lips slightly.

As Honora watched, a hot little pinprick started in her chest and flashed into a raging fire. She wanted to _kill_ Olive Hornby. She thought in that instant that she could have produced a string of curses worthy of Lord Voldemort himself. As for the potential future Voldemort, he merely looked down at Olive, a flicker of exasperation on his face. He raised his head toward Honora. His eyes registered her blatant outrage; she was too upset to try to hide it.

'Come on, Tom, its mistletoe,' Olive simpered. She smiled seductively. To Honora it looked like a grimace.

Tom leaned down and touched Olive's red lips with his own. Olive reached up with a manicured hand and pulled his head close. Honora wanted to scream. _I HATE that little harlot! I HATE Slytherins! I HATE Tom Riddle!_ her mind shrieked. _Oh, no. If I hate him, then why do I care so much?_ The knowledge she had denied to herself slammed into her, a terrible and beautiful realisation that, somewhere along the line, her feelings of sympathetic friendship towards Tom Riddle had turned into something else entirely.

The Slytherins, Avery and Rosier and the rest of the scary crew, hooted and made ribald comments. Tom pulled away from Olive, his face lacking any discernable emotion. The group started walking together out of the Great Hall, back toward their underground Slytherin lair. With each step Tom took, Honora felt stretched away, foiled, disappointed. He was walking away from her, just like that.

'Oh!' Honora huffed under her breath. Ash Wynn, standing next to her, gave her a puzzled look. Damaris and Kay glanced knowingly at each other. Making up her mind, throwing back her shoulders, Honora gathered herself together and walked quickly after the Slytherins.

'Tom!' she called.

He halted and turned at the sound of her voice. 'Yes?' His eyes were a void.

Honora slowed her walk and moved towards him. 'Well, since it's your birthday and all, I, um…I got you a gift. It's in our common room.' She gestured with her hand. 'If you want, I, uh…'

Tom raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. 'You didn't have to get me a gift.'

'Oh, but I did. I think you'll really like it. Please, won't you come?' Honora looked into his face, hoping he did not see too much in her eyes.

'All right,' he said. He gave a wave to the Slytherins for them to continue without him.

'To-om,' Olive protested. 'I have a gift for you.'

'Later, Hornby. I have business to attend to.' Tom's tone was dismissive and left no room for argument.

Honora couldn't keep a little smirk of satisfaction off her face.

In the Head common room, the fire roared merrily in its grand fireplace, lighting the room with a dim orange glow, sending shadows fluttering behind the furniture. Outside the tall windows, heavy snowflakes were falling steadily. Honora walked across the room, and reached far back into the paper cabinet to pull out the gift-wrapped book. 'Here,' she said, presenting it to Tom. 'I thought you could use it. I meant to give it for Christmas, but it was a bit hard to find and seeing as it's your birthday today, anyway…' Honora trailed off.

Tom sat down on the sofa as he carefully unwrapped the package. Honora sat next to him, perched cautiously on the edge. The ancient book had corners of engraved silver and symbols were painted all over the aging leather cover. The words _Kybalion of Hermes Trismegistus_ was stamped on the front.

Tom exhaled sharply in surprise when he realised what it was. 'Honora, I – where did you find this?'

'It was difficult, I'll admit.'

'This is – amazing. It's exactly what I needed.' Tom turned to her. For the second time that evening, a genuine smile of pleasure transformed his face. He looked lighter, happier, younger even. 'Thank you.'

'You're welcome.' Honora smiled back at him, feeling flooded with gladness. 'I hope it helps.'

Something that looked like embarrassment crossed Tom's features. 'I didn't get you anything, for Christmas, or–'

'That's all right. I already have everything I could possibly need,' Honora reassured him. _Everything except…_ she wouldn't let herself finish the thought.

Unable to restrain himself, Tom opened the cover of the book. Honora watched his handsome face in fascination as he started drinking in the details. His dark eyes glowed with some inner light. He scanned rapidly, murmuring to himself, seeming to forget that Honora was there. With a flick of her own wand, she summoned one of her Charms books from the study table. They sat in silence, each caught up in their own reading. It was nearly midnight when Tom got up and started pacing in front of the fire. Honora glanced up at him with fondness. She knew better than to interrupt him; he was clearly on some train of thought.

He leaned on the mantle with his left arm, staring into the flames. 'Trismegistus must have done it,' he said quietly.

Honora put her book aside and went to stand next to him. The heat from the fire seared into her bare legs. 'You're on to something.'

'I don't know. If I could just get around this Arithmancy bit…it's never been discovered before, you see. Or if it has, it's ancient magic and has been lost to us. The equation to unify all things, matter and magic. There is a _reason_ why magic works. That is the key. I think Hermes Trisgmegistus discovered this equation, and hid the steps to it in his secret chamber. If I can de-code his papers, find the chamber, and discover the equation… and control it! It would make the Philosopher's Stone obsolete, even things like wands and spells…the possibilities…' Tom sounded lost in the idea, drawn in like a moth to a flame. Pulling himself back, he looked down at Honora, her red hair backlit by the fire. 'You believe it's possible, don't you?'

His enthusiasm made her happier than she had anticipated; Tom Riddle was now intent on finding the knowledge that led to that white light she had seen briefly experienced at the centre of the universe, that perfect love. 'Yes, I believe it's possible,' she replied earnestly. 'Trismegistus must have discovered the equation; obviously Flamel is partway there with the Elixir of Life. And now with you on track…it could revolutionise everything.'

'Will you help me, Honora?' Tom gazed at her. 'You're the only one who can.'

Honora stared back at him. Suddenly she wondered whether he was talking about Hermetic texts anymore. 'Yes, Tom,' she whispered. 'I'll help you, now and always.'

Her words hung in the air, taking on significance by the following silence. Then, slowly, Tom reached his hand toward her face. Honora's heart stood still in her chest as he took a stray lock of her hair between his fingers, caressing it. Gently, so gently, he let his hand graze down her jaw line, finally tipping her chin up.

She heard his breath catch in his throat.

Tom's head dipped toward hers, his eyes shining midnight blue as he moved closer. She could see his dark lashes on half-closed lids, a slight flush working across his white cheeks. Honora parted her lips ever so slightly; otherwise she was frozen in place.

Then she felt the sudden hot pressure of his lips on hers, velvety wetness tasting of cherries and mint and darkness.

A wave of heat rose up from somewhere deep in her core, creating a pressing urge to get closer to him. She moved her mouth in response to his, kissing him back, and Tom groaned softly. His hands flew around her waist and pulled her tight against him; Honora was reminded of how strong he really was.

Tom deepened the kiss, his tongue gently prying her lips apart, working its way inside. She allowed him, and suffered another deep shiver as he explored her mouth in delightful eddies. It felt like they were glued together, fit together in the most natural way possible. She responded to him in equal passion, creating waves of trembling sensation that flowed through her until she felt she was going to drown.

Finally he pulled away, pressing his forehead gently against hers as if for support. They were both breathing heavily, Honora clutching on to Tom, letting him hold her up. She lifted her eyes to his.

Tom Riddle had an unfathomable look on his face, some kind of high, pure emotion that Honora did not recognise. He stepped slightly back from her. Waiting for him to do something, she just looked at him, knowing her face was flushed and her lips red and her eyes wide.

'I should go,' Tom said quickly. He grabbed the large book and his outer robes that had been set aside. Honora just stood in front of the fireplace, feeling too weak to move.On seeming impulse, Tom stepped over and kissed her once more, with ferocity, but only for a moment before he tore himself away. 'I'll go,' he repeated himself. He had almost reached the door when the room was filled with the sound of the clock, dinging twelve midnight. It was 1945.

At the portrait door, Tom turned to look back at Honora.

'Happy New Year, Tom Riddle,' her voice softly carried across the room.

'Happy New Year,' he replied, just as softly. Then he was gone.

Honora sank to her knees on the silk Persian rug, giddiness washing over her. She clutched her stomach with one hand, and with the other brushed her fingers cross her own lips. _He kissed me, he kissed me, he likes me, he likes me_! her heart sang out.

The fact that Tom Marvolo Riddle was also Lord Voldemort was pushed out of the equation until Honora could barely connect the two figures. Things had gone so far, so out of her control, and now she was not sure if she even cared. She felt like she was on the edge of vast precipice. If she fell, she would follow Tom Riddle and stand beside him in unconditional love, whatever he did, whatever he became, even if that meant standing with Lord Voldemort. She repressed that dreadful thought, reassuring herself that Tom seemed to genuinely trust her now, an exchange that demanded she trust him.

In a daze, she walked back to Ravenclaw, past the empty common room, up to her Head Girl room where she collapsed onto her bed. The whole way, she saw nothing but Tom's face, swimming in front of her mind. Honora never wanted to sleep, so that beautiful night would never be over. Eventually sleep caught up with her, however, and she fell into a dreamless slumber, still in her blue dress.

* * *

**A/N**: _Yay, they kissed! Finally, I know. And_ _for any other physics geeks out there, the Hermetic equation to which Tom and Honora are referring is my idea of a magical Unified Field Equation: a single equation that mathematically describes all the forces in the universe. I decided that if spells have a basis in Arithmancy, it would be very cool if they could take a cue from physics and have a potential equation describe all of magic like that. Take the effects from Einstein's theory of relativity (the atomic bomb, nuclear power, etc. etc.) and times it by about a hundred. That's what kind of power and knowledge the Unified Field Equation represents, which is a good explanation for why Tom Riddle might become obsessed with the magical version of it._

_For those who are conspiracy-minded, there is a persistent rumour that Einstein discovered the real equation. However, it is a fact that several days before his death he burned a huge quantity of his papers and work, saying that 'humanity was not ready for the knowledge.' Sets one to wonder!_


	20. Moonlit Soul

**Author's Note:** To my dear reviewers: _Odessa, All-American Vampire, Larken27, blueforest, The Enchanted Teakettle, Wren, Autumn Faery, ChuckTheGingy, LovinLovegood1, NimbusB, GoodQueenA, LavenderBrown77, Aarzu, Phinea, Nosilla, _and _twighunter_: I love you guys! It means so much to me that you continue to review and comment and read my little story here :-)

Here's a nice long chapter for you all, with a few more breaks in it, through several different incidents. It's getting more and more serious…

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

* * *

**Chapter 20**

**Moonlit Soul**

On New Years Day, Honora slept in and went to a late breakfast determined not to lose traction with Tom. It seemed like every time they got closer, he stepped back and started avoiding her again. This morning, however, they met eyes across the Great Hall and Honora boldly smiled at him.

Tom smiled back, a little shyly, but he was glad to see her.

Definitely.

'Honora, what is going on with you this morning?' Kay peered closely at her when she sat down at the Ravenclaw table. 'You keep smiling.'

'Yeah, you're glowing! What _is_ going on?' Damaris's eyes were wide as if she were attempting to perform Legilimency to discover Honora's secrets.

Honora could not help but giggle. She still felt giddy; her head was going round and round in circles that Tom had kissed her. 'Nothing's going on, I'm just happy…that it's a new year! Yes! Hail to 1945.'

Kay rolled her eyes. 'You're so weird.'

'Hmm. You're happy because it's 1945.' Damaris looked unconvinced.

'Yes!' Honora reached for the pumpkin juice. 'Aren't you, Damaris? After all, this is a rather big year for you…' she attempted to change the subject. It worked.

'Yes, my parents loved Lawrence. Keep July open, girls!'

Kay grinned broadly, and Honora let out a little squeal. Weddings were always exciting, and by now it was clear that Damaris Turpin and Lawrence Carter were perfect for one another. It gave Honora faith in the human race.

Classes began again that week, although Professor Dumbledore was still absent. Honora remembered that 1945 was the year he defeated Grindelwald, so he must be off doing battle or some such. In Arithmancy, Professor Drakkis assigned partnered projects to deconstruct the mathematical basis of Transfiguration spells. To Honora's surprise, Tom Riddle slipped into the seat next her that day.

'Work together?' he asked, although his tone was half-command.

'Yep,' Honora agreed. She felt distracted by the fact he was sitting next to her, and was glad she had remembered to put a touch of lavender water on her wrists that morning.

As it turned out, Honora and Tom worked very well together. Once she got over his physical proximity, which held meaning now that it never had before, Honora decided that working with Tom was one of her favourite things in the world. His insight into Arithmancy was considerable, and Honora found that talking out her theories with Tom made her brain work harder and faster than ever before. It was exhilarating; deconstructing spells, like a mystery puzzle, and then testing and proving their ideas.

Every magical spell had a foundation in Arithmancy; each had an underlying equation that was first invented or discovered by a wizard, and then turned into a charm, transfiguration spell, hex, curse, or anything else. Kay had once said Arithmancy was the equivalent of Muggle mathematics or physics: the nature of the universe explicitly described in numbers.

Tom's sheer magical talent left Honora in awe of him. Of course, she had seen his work in class, and his Legilimency, and duelling with him last year…but now he opened up to her a little more, and it left no doubt that Tom Riddle was possibly the most brilliant wizard ever to pass through Hogwarts. Through her exposure to his thinking, Honora felt her own magical awareness growing by the day. She learned to sense magic, feel its pulse, tap into the emotional state of those around her.

Honora's contribution to the Arithmancy project was in the equations. She found numbers beautiful, and once Tom could show her the component elements of every Transfiguration spell, Honora would play with the equations until they added up. Mainly they worked together in the Head common room, the small table in front of the window piled high with parchment and cast-off Transfigured objects. One day they spent the better part of an hour trying to Summon a large, stubborn cricket that was really a cup; it had escaped and raced around the common room, making weird, annoying little clicking noises. Every time they said '_Accio cricket_!' it would zoom onto their table, and just hop off again before they could turn it back into a cup.

'You blasted insect!' Tom finally shouted at it, fed up.

Honora started laughing, as the cricket rubbed its wings together to create a sweetly irritating note, and leaped off the table again with its greatest effort yet. 'I think it's thwarting us on purpose,' she giggled.

'Has it out for us. I can tell,' Tom added, cracking up himself.

'We could just leave it as a cricket,' suggested Honora. 'Maybe it likes being alive.'

'I'm inclined that way, as long as it finds itself a new home,' Tom said, opening a window to the chill air.

Everyone else was finding the Arithmancy assignment inordinately challenging. Damaris had actually broken down in tears over it; she was working with Kay, who in an uncharacteristic display of frustration had taken an unworkable solution and burned it, right there on their table in the library. The young yet somehow dried out librarian, Madame Pince, had been furious.

January in Scotland was normally cold, dark, and dreary, but for Honora it passed in a gentle haze.She had gotten a little caught up in her Arithmancy project, and with Tom. They discussed their work constantly, during their Head patrols, in the evenings in front of the fire in their common room. At least, they talked when they were not involved in other activities. Honora became accustomed to surprise visits to the castle's many broom closets, and alcoves behind tapestries, where the only reality was darkness and Tom's lips and Tom's body, pressed against her own. It never failed to surprise her how passionate he was. His chilly, serene public bearing belied the tremendous fervour that simmered beneath his skin.

* * *

One morning, just after a well-spent Valentine's Day, Honora woke before the sun and headed to the Great Hall for breakfast. She was one of the first ones up, which was unusual for her; Honora was not normally a morning person. Today, only a group of early-rising fourth year Hufflepuffs clustered together on the far end of their table. As she sat down at her own Ravenclaw table, the teapot in front of her filled with freshly-brewed black English tea, along with a pitcher of milk and a nice stack of lightly buttered toast, just for her. 

_How do the house-elves know I prefer toast and tea for breakfast?_ she wondered. With a flourish, she poured herself a gorgeous cup of tea with a splash of milk, cooling it sufficiently to take an immediate sip. As the caffeine worked its way into her system, she brightened, thinking over both her Arithmancy project and Tom Riddle.

Several more people trickled in to the Great Hall: a sixth-year Gryffindor couple, some little Slytherins, a pair of second-year Ravenclaws. Then, Honora heard footsteps behind her and she turned to see Tom, in his immaculate uniform, and she smiled.

'Good morning,' he said, sitting down at the table next to her.

'Morning!' Honora said. She was surprised; Tom had never sat with her before in the Great Hall. He seemed attached to his table of Slytherins. But this morning, Honora was not complaining.

He conjured a cup of black coffee for himself, and leaned on his elbow to look at her. 'What's the most powerful light magic charm you can think of?'

Honora blinked. It was very early in the morning for this sort of thing. 'Um, I don't know – the Patronus charm is powerful.'

'Right. And it stems from good memories, happy memories, to take a corporeal form. Therefore, it proves that happy thoughts can be solid things, indeed that _any_ thought can be a solid thing. Maybe that means that the world, and magic, stem only from our minds. The more powerful the mind, the more powerful the wizard.'

Taking another sip of tea to fortify herself, Honora struggled to follow his train of thought. 'Tom,' she said. 'It's seven in the morning.'

'Sorry,' he said. 'I couldn't sleep, I've been thinking about this over and over. If the Patronus charm is light magic, solidified _happy_ thought, then perhaps it could be a starting point to find the Hermetic equation.'

'Ohhh,' Honora said, understanding now. 'Yes! You could be right.' The Great Hall was getting louder, as more students sat down, chattering amongst themselves.

Tom grinned at her, oozing charm.

'All right, what do you want?' Honora said.

His grin became broader. 'I think we should Arithmatically deconstruct the Patronus charm.'

'I was afraid you were going to say that.' Honora took a bite of toast. 'Our assignment only calls for those Transfiguration spells, you know.'

'It could be extra credit.'

'As if you need it!' Honora laughed. 'I'll admit, I'm intrigued. Let's do it.'

Tom nodded once with emphasis. 'Good.' He stayed sitting at the table, and grabbed a piece of toast. Honora felt her spirits rise by the second; he was sitting with her! And he considered her an equal partner in their project.

Her crowd of Ravenclaw friends entered the Great Hall, talking loudly, Damaris and Willow gossiping away as if they were trying to set a record for the number of words spoken in a single minute. Ash and Lawrence were embroiled in a discussion about Quidditch tactics. The group filled in the seats around Honora and Tom, and for a moment Honora felt her muscles tense. These were not Tom's usual company; how would he react? And how would her friends react to the Slytherin Head Boy sitting at their table?

She needn't have worried. Tom politely greeted the Ravenclaws, who chirped brightly in return. Damaris gave Honora a significant look, but Honora ignored it, just as she was trying to ignore the fact that Tom's left hand had found its way to her knee under the table. She reached her own hand down and grasped his, letting him play with her fingers. None of her friends were the wiser.

Willow, across the table, had broken off her gossip session with Damaris, and now stared at Tom with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. 'Hi, Tom,' she said.

Tom tilted his head at her. 'Er, hi,' he said.

His word sent Willow into a fit of giggles. Honora rolled her eyes.

'So, Riddle,' Lawrence said, leaning across Damaris for the pitcher of pumpkin juice. 'What do you think about this new 'Wronski feint' business, from Poland's Seeker?'

Tom regarded Lawrence for a moment, and then spoke. 'It's a brilliant move, though difficult to execute.'

'Have you tried?' Ash broke in. 'I tried the other day, not that I really knew what I was doing, and nearly killed myself!' He shook his head in chagrin.

'I have attempted it during practise,' Tom said. Honora suspected that whatever the Wronski feint was, Tom had already mastered it. 'Doubt there's a Seeker in a thousand that could do it right away, though.'

This seemed to make Ash feel better, and Honora looked at Tom with a keen eye. He had neatly downplayed his own flying skills, while making Ash feel that he was not alone in finding the move difficult. _Who knew he could actually be nice?_ she pondered. He was probably only doing it for her benefit, but still, it was something. She smiled serenely as his thumb caressed the palm of her hand in a circular motion, out of sight.

As if by unspoken, mutual understanding, Tom and Honora stayed together, sitting side-by-side at the Ravenclaw table, all during their free period that morning. Tom brought out his books; Honora re-copied her Divination notes. All was conducted in a comfortable routine of silence. The spaces around them had emptied of students; Honora's Ravenclaw friends were all taking History of Magic, which she had avoided on her class schedule.

After an hour or so, a whisper of feathery wings above their heads distracted Honora's attention from her notes. She watched as a beautiful black and white eagle owl descended, heading straight for them. Tom looked up.

'Strixa!' he said, reaching out for the bird, who landed gracefully on his arm after releasing a large package from her talons. 'Don't you know you're supposed to make deliveries with the rest of the owls?'

'Who's this?' Honora said, reaching a hand out to pet Strixa.

'She's my owl,' Tom explained. 'She was a gift from the Flamels. It's in exchange for correspondence with them.'

Honora smiled at the thought of Tom Riddle dutifully writing letters from school to the _very_ elderly wizard couple. 'Strixa,' she said the name once. 'She's beautiful.' This earned her a contented hoot from the owl, who took off once more.

'She's a French owl,' said Tom. 'Feels herself above grubbing with the common owls to deliver the post.' He took the delivered package in his hands, unwrapping the brown paper and taking the lid off of the box inside. 'Excellent!'

'What is it?' Honora asked, peering over his shoulder.

'Croissants,' Tom said.

'Croissants?'

'From Perenelle. Mrs. Flamel. She sends them to me,' Tom said, sounding a little defensive for a moment, before the joy of freshly baked pastries overtook his face once more. 'They're like heaven. I spent all summer eating them. And look, she's included some pain au chocolat, as well.' Tom rummaged through the box, setting aside the carefully-wrapped pastries. 'And…' he took out three pairs of what appeared to be hand-knitted socks, a warm black woollen scarf with fringe on the ends, and some Chocolate Frogs.

Honora stared unabashedly at Perenelle Flamel's display of maternal affection for Tom. 'Croissants?' she repeated herself again.

Tom smiled. 'She's convinced that Hogwarts doesn't feed us properly,' he said. 'Here, try one. You'll see what I mean.'

After one bite of Mrs. Flamel's croissant, Honora could see exactly why Tom was so happy to receive them. It was buttery, light, flaky perfection, and her face lifted with delight. 'Merlin's beard,' she said, 'these are wonderful.'

Tom nodded at her, eating his own croissant.

'What was it like, at the Flamels?' Honora could scarcely contain her curiosity about these people who, for whatever reason, liked Tom Riddle enough to send him care packages.

An odd expression crossed his face before he replied. 'It was…nice,' he said. 'I was busy, all the time. We were working on Nicolas's coded papers, of course, and I was learning the more practical applications of alchemy, like conjuring gold. But it was more than that – I suppose you could say it was peaceful. In the countryside, no one else around, Perenelle demanding that we take breaks every afternoon at five o'clock for coffee and food…You should meet the two of them. I can't believe that after six hundred years, they haven't tired of each other. They're so obviously –' he broke off, shaking his head.

_In love,_ Honora's mind finished the thought for him. 'They sound nice,' she said, attempting to defuse the concept that was clearly awkward for him. 'And what an opportunity, I mean, the world's greatest alchemist, learning so much from him…it's great.'

Tom turned to look at her, smiling once more. 'It would be even greater if we could get to work on this Patronus charm,' he said with eagerness.

Honora nodded, accepting the change of subject away from surrogate parents. Feeling livelier after her snack of heavenly croissant, she put her head back down to her papers and her brain whirred into motion once more.

* * *

By late February, Tom had fully uncovered the Transfiguration spell components and Honora had nearly finished the equations, putting them at least two weeks ahead of the rest of the class. Additionally, they had deconstructed the structure of the Patronus charm, to reveal an interesting mathematical pattern to happiness: the number 1.618, the golden ratio of _phi_. Tom had been very excited about it, as it dovetailed with his alchemical theories. The only points left in their project were the write-up and report. 

The final night of work, Honora kicked off her shoes and made herself comfortable on the black velvet sofa in the Head common room; the clock dinged six o'clock as Honora's quill scratched along. Tom was off somewhere, probably lecturing the Slytherin prefects. Honora yawned. It had been nearly four hours of work, and she wanted to finish the project tonight…but she could not fight the drowsiness that overtook her. She let her head fall back on a pillow and the fading daylight blurred to grey as she fell asleep.

It was dark when she awoke from her nap. Faint moonlight streamed in through the windows, but it was not quite enough. She saw dark walls, dark furniture, dark eyes watching her…with a small fright, Honora's eyes fluttered open fully.

There, sitting in the armchair, was Tom Riddle. He was relaxed, gazing at her with blue-black eyes, his position suggesting he had been there for a long while. His pale, handsome features were just barely illuminated with the moonlight from outside. She sensed he had been staring at her for some time, and his face was unguarded with the habit of watching her sleep. Although it was dark, and the moon through the window could have been playing tricks on her, Honora still felt the warmth, the tenderness in his eyes…And the realisation came unbidden, flooding into her consciousness like a tidal wave: _He loves me._

There was no direct evidence, but in that strange state of awareness, between sleep and awakening, Honora knew it with deep certainty. _Tom is in love with me_. She did not know if he had admitted it to himself, but it was there, written for her to see. In that moment, her faith solidified into more than simple benefit of the doubt. She _wanted_ to believe in him, and so she did.

'I didn't mean to startle you,' Tom whispered. He stood up from his seated position. 'I'll go.'

'Tom…' Honora reached out her hand, beckoning.

Turning back to her, Tom sank down onto his knees in front of the sofa. His head tilted as he regarded Honora, whose gaze sparkled up at him in hopes of so much more.

Then he leaned over and his lips were upon hers, so suddenly that she let out a little moan of surprise and want. Honora put her hands around his head, running her fingers through his black hair, so silky soft. She tried to sit up partway, tried to get closer to him. Tom's arm went around her slender waist, pulling her into him.

His tongue swirled in her mouth, opening her up, unlocking her secrets. She was on the edge of the precipice before and now she was falling, falling, into his lap on the floor, her fingers clutching the silk rug, his fingers moulding her body into his.

His lips left her mouth and moved down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Honora's heartbeat was fast and light; her entire body trembled under him. She noticed his own hands were shaking as he unbuttoned her school blouse.

Tom pushed her gently back, cradling her and then his hands were moving all over her, up and down until she was overwhelmed. Honora knew this was the end, she had no choice, she had made her decision. No going back. All she wanted now was Tom, Tom Riddle forever.

* * *

Honora woke up in his arms, wrapped in a conjured blanket on the Persian carpet. Tom was curled around her, his arms holding her tight as if she might disappear if he let go. Honora could feel his deep, soft breathing on her neck, his face burrowed in her hair.

Her lips curved into a smile. The whole thing was so unexpected, yet wonderful, yet…Honora was not sure what to think. Had she completely strayed from her purpose? Was Tom Riddle merely distracting her with kisses so he could continue on his path to becoming Lord Voldemort?

Her heart, in its innocent faith, scoffed at the idea. He had been even more reluctant, at first, than she. Honora thought she was a wrench in Tom Riddle's plans and, for whatever reason, he was accepting it anyway. Besides, the look in his eyes last night told her everything she needed to know. It was the same look he got, Honora reflected, as when he was reading something or figuring something out, that blue light inside shadowed eyes that glowed with purity and passion. _Now he loves me as much as he loves books_. The thought made Honora want to giggle.

The light outside indicated it was mid-morning, anyway; twisting her head toward the clock, Honora saw it was a quarter to nine. And her waistband from her skirt was pinching her. Gently she unclasped Tom's hands from around her, hoping not to wake him up…but a sudden intake of his breath said he too had awoken.

She turned in his now-loose grip and looked at him. 'Good morning,' she said.

'Mmm.' Tom blinked several times. 'What time is it?'

'Quarter to nine. We're going to be late for Potions, definitely.'

'And you're a little out of sorts,' Tom teased, looking down the blanket at her askew skirt and complete lack of school blouse.

'Yes, well, whose fault is that?' Honora teased back, pushing a stray lock of Tom's hair off his forehead.

She squealed as his arms tightened around her again, pulling her into a bear hug. Tom nuzzled his face in her neck, tickling her slightly until she protested.

'Oh, all right, Slughorn can miss us,' she relented.

Tom pulled back, looking innocently shocked. 'Did I just hear our Head Girl advocate missing an essential class like Potions?' He shook his head. 'Tsk, tsk, Honora. Not setting a very good example.'

'Hey!' she laughed, unable to come up with a good retort.

'Right then, off we go, big day ahead!' With a burst of energy, Tom helped (or pulled) her up off the floor and tossed her her white blouse. He buttoned his own shirt quickly and grabbed his books off the table. 'Come on, Crowley, we'll be late!'

Honora swept in front of him to the portrait hole. 'Oh, by the way – I've almost finished the equations for Arithmancy. We're ahead of _everyone_,' she tossed over her shoulder to him.

'That's because we _are_ the best.'

'True.'

They were only five minutes late for Potions, and Slughorn barely noticed the tardy transgressions of favoured students such as Tom and Honora. Kay archly raised an eyebrow at Honora, who looked back at her with virtuous blankness. Even now, she wanted her relationship with Tom to stay secret, so that no one dared interfere. All that morning, Honora made a good effort in class, but inside she relished the night's impressions of Tom on her skin, and on her soul.

* * *

**A/N: **Please review! And I know a lot of you have been wondering about how far Honora is going to trust Tom, how sincere he really is with her, etc...and the answer is, I'm not going to tell you! At least not until the end of this story. Sorry. :-) Just take faith that several incidents are upcoming, which will force BOTH of them to choose what they want. After all, it's all about choices in the end...


	21. Shed Light

**Author's Notes:** My dear readers and reviewers, thank you! _The Enchanted Teakettle, LovinLovegood1, Wren, All-American Vampire, Autumn Faery, Larken27, Odessa, blueforest, KrazieChickadee, DeepDownSlytherin, Maelys, Nimbus B, padfoot'smoon, Nosilla, forceuser1456, _and_ twighunter._ Again, responses to anonymous reviews can be found in my profile.

I'm obsessed with WWII history, so I've integrated some of it into this chapter.

The _Incohare Calx_ spell I mention (I made it up) sounds really cool to me, and I got the idea from Disney's Sleeping Beauty, when the raven familiar of Maleficent is turned to a stone statue. I would be pleased to see someone else use it in a fic :-) P.S. Am I the only one who thinks that Parseltongue is dead sexy?

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

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Recap of Chapter 20: 

_Honora swept in front of Tom to the portrait hole. 'Oh, by the way – I've almost finished the equations for Arithmancy. We're ahead of everyone,' she tossed over her shoulder to him._

'_That's because we are the best.'_

'_True.'_

_They were only five minutes late for Potions, and Slughorn barely noticed the tardy transgressions of favoured students such as Tom and Honora. Kay archly raised an eyebrow at Honora, who looked back at her with virtuous blankness. Even now, she wanted her relationship with Tom to stay secret, so that no one dared interfere. All that morning, Honora made a good effort in class, but inside she relished the night's impressions of Tom on her skin, and on her soul._

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 21**

**Shed Light**

Regrettably the rest of the day was too busy to spend any time with Tom, but they did give each other smouldering looks in the hallways whenever they passed one another.

For Honora's part, it felt as if Tom was a totally different person now. He had stopped bothering to put up his cold, emotionless-yet-charming facade around her. Granted, the rest of the school was still completely fooled. But Honora and Tom were in on their own private little secret. She knew what he was and what he had done. She also figured that, if her intuition had been correct, she was the only human being he had ever loved. Honora hoped that was enough to change things.

Did she return Tom Riddle's love? The question confused Honora. Certainly she wanted to. She wanted to turn him toward higher pursuits than dictatorship; she wanted him to be with her as her only equal. However, the fact remained that he was potentially Lord Voldemort, the evil ruler of her own time that had brought so much misery and death, however disconnected that figure was from her beautiful, captivating friend. _I love him, but I don't trust him. Not yet_.

Honora resolved to let things take their own course. She felt out of control, a feeling she normally disliked immensely, but there was nothing to do but accept it in this case.

She also wondered if she should ever tell Tom about her true past, about the fact that she was a time-traveller. The truth was that Honora wanted him to know. He had been up-front with her about his past; she owed him the same. Yet, she feared that if he knew he had succeeded in becoming the all-powerful dictator of the world, as Lord Voldemort, it would only encourage him. Honora knew that her grandmother Eleanor, and Julius Talbot, and the centaurs, would be appalled at the idea of confessing their desperate plan to Tom Riddle himself.

_But they don't know him like I do_, Honora's mind bleated. _They don't love him like I do_. She sighed at this; love certainly was not simple. In fact, it had twisted her life and mission so into knots, Honora did not know her way out.

The other problem with telling Tom that she was _really_ from the year 2112 was a definite lack of proof. For the thousandth time, Honora kicked herself for losing her locket. It had been her only link, her only evidence, of her past and purpose. If Honora blurted out to Tom that she came from a tiny enclave of light wizards fighting against his future-dictator self, he might send her to St. Mungo's as a mental patient. Not wanting that, Honora decided to keep quiet, for the time being.

In early March, the Daily Prophet blared the headline that everyone had been waiting for: 'DUMBLEDORE DEFEATS GRINDELWALD; The Dark Wizard's Forces Scatter in Germany; Victory for Britain!'

It set the school rocking with exaltation; Dumbledore returned to cheering crowds in Hogsmeade. Nearly the whole of the student body turned out, laughing and shouting and drinking, confetti issuing forth from wands. Most of the older Slytherins abstained from celebration; Tom Riddle merely kept his cool demeanour intact and was not seen dancing in the streets.

Honora suggested he celebrate with her in private.

Since Hogwarts was mainly empty, it was easy to sneak Honora into the Slytherin dungeons and into Tom's Head Boy bedroom. She glanced around the Slytherin common room curiously as they passed through it; indeed the light filtering through the lake gave the large room a quavering, blue look. It was almost pretty. The house colours of green and silver were everywhere, with heavy doses of black furniture and white marble.

Tom held her hand as he pulled her up a short flight of stairs and into his room. Honora could not conceal a smile as she looked around: the room suited Tom perfectly, dark and masculine and rather dramatic. Warm torchlight flared up with a wave of Tom's wand. A large four-poster bed sat in the middle of the room, carved of ebony, with green and silver satin coverlet and velvet drapes. A green velvet sofa was perched in front of the lakeside window, watery silver light gleaming through in soft rays.

Honora stood in the middle of the floor, not sure if she was allowed to sit down or touch anything. Tom stepped behind her, wrapped his arms about her waist, and kissed her neck, his breath hot on her skin. It was rather nice, until she noticed something _moving_ in the corner.

Honora's eyes widened; it was a huge snake, now uncoiling itself and slithering towards her, supple dark scales glinting in the light. 'Uhh, Tom?' she pointed. 'What is _that?_'

'Oh.' Tom exhaled in a soft chuckle. 'Honora, I'd like you to meet my familiar, Nagini.'

'Huh?' Honora looked up at him doubtfully. 'Nagini?'

'Don't worry, she's very nice. She already knows all about you.' As if to confirm this, the snake Nagini slithered her way towards Honora and drew up to human height. Honora locked eyes with the reptile, unable to blink. The snake really was intimidating. _Figures he'd have something like this as a pet_. Her mind dinged something about a mention of a large snake in McGonagall's book, connected to Lord Voldemort, but Honora was too distracted to pursue the thought.

Tom reached out a hand and ran it along Nagini's nose, a practised and affectionate caress. Nagini's forked tongue flicked out of her mouth contentedly. Suddenly Tom started hissing to it in Parseltongue, those sinuous syllables quivering through the air. His eyes watched Honora as he spoke.

Honora felt hot all of a sudden. The hissing, murmuring sound of Tom's voice wrapped around her throat and ears, striking a chord somewhere deep inside. It was weird, dark, and certainly frightening, but for some reason Honora felt a primal attraction to him at that moment. Her mouth quirked upward in a sultry smile. 'I like to hear you speak Parseltongue,' she whispered, her voice low.

'Why?' Tom switched back to English, but softly.

'It sounds like it takes a lot of…talent to speak.'

'Oh, it does. The pronunciation off the tongue…it takes a great deal of _dexterity_,' Tom looked at her, his dark eyes glittering with double meaning. 'Come.' Placing a hand at the small of her back, he guided her toward the sofa and they sat together. Tom conjured a bottle of red wine and two glasses. 'You wanted to celebrate,' he said, taking a more casual tone.

'Aren't you glad, Tom?' Honora said to him as she settled in to rest in his arms on the sofa. 'Grindelwald is gone.'

'I can't say I care one way or the other,' Tom replied. 'Grindelwald was weaker than Dumbledore; that's all there was to it.'

'And the light prevails again,' Honora said delicately.

Tom snorted. 'And why should I be happy about that?'

'Because if Grindelwald's gone, that's one less wizard who's trying to get power that might be ours.'

Tom regarded Honora with a look of sudden respect. 'Oh, so it comes out! You didn't want Grindelwald dead as revenge alone, did you?'

'Well, no. I think Britain should be in charge of things, and we can't have some old German wizard running around influencing people, wreaking havoc, doing bad things to no end.'

'And if he did bad things toward a good end?'

Honora shook her head. 'Oh, no, you don't. The ends do not justify the means, because the means can change you by the time you reach your goal. And frankly, it's a lot more of a challenge to stay on the good side of things and still gain power. I've never known you to say no to a challenge, Tom.'

'Interesting point. So you're not against the pursuit of power, fortune, personal glory…as long as it benefits everyone else, too?'

'Exactly.'

'Now that _is_ a challenge.'

'Speaking of that, Tom, how is the Kybalion coming along?'

'It's fascinating,' he replied, lighting up with that familiar thirst for knowledge. 'The power that might be unlocked through transmutation of the soul would change the very nature of how we do magic. Wandless magic, an ability to control our environment in undreamt-of ways…see, it all seems to be about finding that root of truth as to why magic works. The unified equation that we've talked about is really just an Arithmatic representation of the inner truth.'

'Which, according to Hermetic mysticism, is light. Universal Love. Incomprehensible, yet it can be experienced and channelled, even.'

Tom sighed. 'Apparently…_love_.' He sounded almost disappointed. 'I want to go to Egypt,' he said abruptly. 'The text speaks of a chamber that Trismegistus built, to contain his power…'

'You and secret chambers,' Honora rolled her eyes. 'I want to go to Egypt too.'

'And what makes you think I'll take you with me?' Tom was smiling now.

'You just will. And if you don't, I'll pester you until you do.'

'I knew you would say that.' Tom sighed dramatically. 'The things I put up with.'

'Egypt will be fun. We can buy carpets.'

Tom looked down indulgently. 'We could open a magic carpet shop in Diagon Alley,' he joked. 'Call it 'Wild Threads'.'

Honora laughed out loud. 'You're silly!'

'I'll show you all around London.'

'Oh, that would be brilliant,' Honora said. 'There is so much to do and see, even in the Muggle parts. I love that city.'

'I love London, too,' Tom said, quietly now. He got a strange expression on his face, as though remembering something that was both painful and wonderful.

'What is it?' Honora looked at him, snuggling next to him in a gesture of comfort. She was surprised that Tom Riddle, of all people, would hold affection for the city of London.

Tom said nothing for several seconds, but his face darkened and he set his mouth firmly before he began to speak.

'I was just remembering London during the war. You wouldn't believe it, during the Blitz, how awful it was. Yet, the city of London kept going, the people kept living, somehow. I remember we never got enough to eat, at the orphanage. It felt as if the world was being drained of colour, bleeding to death every day.

'Then, the sound of the jerries, flying overhead…you would think it'd be a roar, dull and deep, but it wasn't. It was more of a whine, like a bee on some terrible errand. The sirens would start…and then the noises. Soft thuds, if the bombs were far away, or sharp and crashing if they were close. Screams, too. We didn't have a shelter, so during the raids Mrs. Cole, the headmistress of the orphanage, took us down into the basement and we hid beneath the stairs. Once –' Tom stopped, remembering. 'Once I was out in the city, when the bombs came. I went around London all the time on my own, you see.'

Honora smiled vaguely at this. She could just see little Tom, running around London, probably as coolly polite, watchful and dark, as he was now.

'It was twilight, and I had gone wandering through the market at Covent Garden, just wandering. Then the sirens started blaring. I wasn't scared, not really, but I knew it was going to be bad. Every night it seemed to get worse. Everyone around me started running for the shelters, no panic, but a kind of grim, purposeful run for the Underground station.'

'Oh!' Honora interrupted. 'The Underground! Two summers ago, when I was in Muggle London, there was a bombing raid. I didn't go through much of it; I was nearly to the Leaky Cauldron and got in just in time. But I saw people running down some stairs marked 'Underground.''

Tom nodded. 'That's the public train system,' he explained. 'The Tube. During the worst of the Blitz, they were bomb shelters at night, safe as long as they didn't take a direct hit. But—' he sighed, clenching his jaw. 'I was thirteen. It was during my third year, and not enough staff was here at Hogwarts, so I had to go back to the orphanage for Christmas holidays. It was two days before my birthday, and…that night, I barely made it to the Underground. It was the closest I'd ever been to the bombing before. We were all huddled in together, complete strangers, faces set against the horror right above our heads.'

Honora had a sudden flashback to hiding in the dungeons of Polaris, while Dementors and Death Eaters broke through overhead. She knew exactly what Tom was talking about.

'I stayed there all night, just waiting. A woman brought me a cup of water, and two biscuits. I didn't sleep. Just listened. I knew I would be all right, I was always able to make things happen, the way I wanted them to…If my life were truly in danger, I could have used magic. But it wasn't just about me, right then. I was stuck underground, with Muggles, and I can't stand Muggles. For some reason, though, I didn't mind, I almost felt…' he struggled with his words, 'I was one of them. Even though I was a wizard, it was still London, a place I know like the back of my own hand. And around me were people under attack, weak but still brave, not allowing themselves to be afraid.' He laughed, harshly. 'I thought at the time that the whole lot of Londoners ought to be Gryffindors.'

'And you, too,' Honora said, with a wry smile.

Tom scoffed. 'No, not I. I took a more realistic view of things; it was a matter of who would outlast the other. Would the Germans succeed, or would the English?' Then he sighed, sad and nearly wistful. 'But the next morning, when I emerged from the shelter, and looked around me…I wanted to win. I wanted England to win, to stop the people who dared to attack us.

'You see, there was nothing left, except rubble and blood. I stood in the middle of it, and I stepped on something and looked down, and it was somebody's hand, blown off. I didn't recognise it at first.' His tone became colder, more clinical, as he did when he was talking about brutal violence. 'I walked back through the streets, sometimes climbing over bricks, sometimes over bodies. The city was burning. I crossed the Thames, and I reached the orphanage…' Tom stopped, seemingly unwilling to go on.

'What happened?' Honora gazed up at him, surprised to see his perfect brow furrowed in concentrated effort to speak.

'They hadn't even noticed that I was gone,' Tom said bitterly. 'No one noticed.'

Honora blinked, horrified. 'What?'

'I think Mrs. Cole wanted to be rid of me,' he said, trying to sound like he did not care, but failing utterly.

'Oh, Tom,' Honora touched his face, tenderly, wishing that she could have been there with him.

'It doesn't matter. I'll never see that place again. But London...it's a city that endures, even through the worst humanity can throw at it. I admire stoicism, and fortitude, and we outlasted the Germans. We outlasted Grindelwald.'

'And? Now that we've won the war? Britain victorious?'

Tom's mouth quirked into a smile, against his own will. 'I guess maybe I'm a little proud,' he admitted.

Honora settled back up against him contentedly. Though he would never admit it, Tom Riddle had a heart somewhere inside of him.

The inevitable march of history, the ending of the war, and Tom's impassioned discussions about alchemy all combined to remind Honora that she, too, was graduating soon and needed to decide on her own plans. In a few short months, she would be on her own in the big wide world.

She was also nearly broke. The bag of Galleons she had been given by the centaurs had worn down and now she only had 37 left. It was barely enough to get her through Hogsmeade weekends and incidentals for the rest of the term. She did not want to take out a loan from the goblins; their interest rates were notorious and it was never a good feeling to be in debt. However, she had sent her letter of intent to the Curse-breaking Division of Gringotts Bank. With her grades, Honora was certain she would be invited to an interview.

Professor Drakkis had told her that interviews for Curse-breakers were not just a sit-down affair. Apparently they put applicants through tests to see how well they could think on their feet. The prospect was nerve-wracking. Honora made Tom duel with her a few times, just to stay sharp. She had a feeling that he secretly enjoyed sending nasty hexes her way, just to see what she would do.

Tom did teach her several useful offensive spells, including the Wooden Stake curse, '_Nemorosus Talea_', which sent a sharp stake made of ash straight through a vampire's heart with the flick of a wand. He also taught her a rather scary curse called '_Incohare Calx_.' It turned any creature into a stone statue, permanently. Honora knew it was a Dark Arts curse, but she rationalised it to herself by figuring she would use it only on monsters, not humans. She had no idea, and did not really want to know, where Tom had learnt those spells in the first place.

With a squirm of guilt, Honora was beginning to agree with Tom about the Dark Arts. There was something fascinating about them. They also generally required more power and skill than normal spells, which attracted someone like Honora. It was the thrill of the forbidden, combined with an intellectual challenge. However, Honora was careful to remind Tom that Dark spells were child's play compared to Hermetic alchemy. Surprisingly, he agreed with her.

'Flamel has formally asked me to come back to work with him for a year,' Tom told Honora one day in April. 'We're going to go over the work I've done with the Kybalion. I'm rather hoping he's going to teach me how to make the Philosopher's Stone in exchange.'

'That—that's great, Tom,' Honora replied. 'It really is the cutting edge. But are you sure you want the Philosopher's Stone? I mean, immortality…it could be really good, but it could backfire. You might be sorry.'

'There is nothing worse than death. The ultimate power would be immortality. You must believe that.'

'I believe _everyone_ has immortality.'

'What? Don't be ridiculous. That's impossible, people die every day, even the most powerful wizards, even my mother—'

'Ah.' Honora leaned back and regarded Tom critically. 'You think if you can avoid death, you can beat the thing that made your early life what it was. To you, death is weakness.'

Tom did not say anything. His expression was a scowl, however.

Honora continued to press the issue. 'What would you say if I told you there is more to it than that? Our bodies may die, but the soul goes on. There are many worlds besides this one, Tom. Hermetics teaches us that; and I know it for a fact.'

'How could you possibly know?' Tom sneered. He really did get unpleasant when she started pointing out the holes in his plans for immortality.

'I died once, Tom,' Honora said, without thinking about what explanation it would demand.

His eyes widened in disbelief. 'You're lying.'

'I'm not.'

'How? You must have been mistaken.'

Honora thought about how to word things. She considered revealing it all, right there and then: her time travel from the year 2112, her mission, all of it. But, just as the words were on the tip of her tongue, she lost her nerve and decided to tell a half-truth instead. 'When I was rescued from, um, the Dark forces, I had to go through a kind of—crack—in space and time. I was saved by the centaurs of…of the Black Forest! Yes. There was a planetary alignment that would allow instantaneous travel out of that part of Germany, which as you know was surrounded by anti-Apparition wards due to the war. So there was this light and the centaurs told me that my body would die when I stepped through. I would be blasted apart and then sort of…_reconstructed_ on the other end.'

Tom was now paying rapt attention. 'And did you, you know, die?'

'Yes. I felt my body destroyed, an instant of terrible pain…then there was a black sort of tunnel, and faces, I knew they were the souls of people who had died and they were sort of cheering me on, I guess. There was a really bright light at the end of it and I approached it…' Honora started to get tears in her eyes. She had never described her experience out loud before. 'It was the whole Universe, there, truth and light and ultimate love, enveloping me. It was so _nice_. I almost didn't want to come back. But then I felt tugged along and I knew I had to go back to life. I felt my body reassemble, just as the centaurs said, and my soul kind of flew back into it. That's how I got out of, er, where I was. Out of danger.'

'You never told me that before.' Tom sounded almost accusing.

'I've never told anyone that before.'

They sat in silence for awhile. Tom stared down at the floor, lost in thought. Honora wondered if he was thinking about his mother.

'You know…' Tom mused, 'the light you saw…maybe it's what the Hermetic alchemists talk about. The source of magic, of life,of everything. And so if you could make sure your spirit was eternally youthful, then with the proper magical application the body could become so. It would provide a theoretical description of the Philosopher's Stone, and open up the potential for a melded soul _and_ body immortality.'

'Wow.' Listening to Tom talk about that kind of magic gave Honora goosebumps. 'Now that sort of thing I could get behind. Maybe that's what you're supposed to do.'

'True Immortals, walking the earth,' Tom said softly. His eyes held a rabid gleam, a hunger.

It made Honora hungry for it, too. If she achieved immortality through alchemy, not the Dark Arts, she would be one of the greatest wizards in history. It would also mean she might live to see her own time again, 2112, and see it a happy place of laughter and freedom. That is, if Tom Riddle would include her in his scheme.

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**A/N:** Please review! This was sort of the last 'nice, sweet, happy' chapter. And just so everyone is prepared, in the next installment things become very serious indeed...the angels are calling for judgement day. 

Tom's account of the London Blitz refers to the night of December 29/30, 1940, when a massive German bombing raid created a firestorm in the centre of London that destroyed the area from St. Paul's Cathedral to the Guildhall. Over 1500 fires burned that night, but miraculously the cathedral itself escaped destruction. During the course of the Blitz (Sept. 1940 – May 1941) over 40,000 British civilians were killed, including over 5,000 children. Nazis! I hate those guys! Since it occurred during the school year, I've taken the liberty of sending Tom back to the orphanage over Christmas holidays in 1940.

The Muggle war in Europe ended in May 1945 (I'll be showing that later) but I figured that Dumbledore's defeat of Grindelwald likely preceded that, so I've decided it happened in March 1945.


	22. Reckoning

**Author's Notes:** Thanks again to my reviewers: _Maelys, The Enchanted Teakettle, Phinea, Larken27, KrazieChickadee, forceuser1456, LavenderBrown77, LovinLovegood1, Odessa, Wren, twighunter, ChuckTheGingy, All-American Vampire, Firithnovwen, Nimbus B, Airlady, moonlights desire, _and _Aarzu_. I never expected to get so many reviews! Again, responses to anonymous reviews are up on my profile.

So without further ado, here's yet another nice long chapter for everyone.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

* * *

Recap from Chapter 21: 

'_True Immortals, walking the earth,' Tom said softly. His eyes held a rabid gleam, a hunger._

_It made Honora hungry for it, too. If she achieved immortality through alchemy, not the Dark Arts, she would be one of the greatest wizards in history. It would also mean she might live to see her own time again, 2112, and see it a happy place of laughter and freedom. That is, if Tom Riddle would include her in his scheme.

* * *

_

**Chapter 22**

**Reckoning**

When spring arrived in blooming force, Honora and Dumbledore went over the names for the recipients of the Crowley Memorial Scholarship, and Honora decided to ask him about his defeat of Grindelwald. It had made Dumbledore incredibly famous.

'Is that where you were this year, sir? I mean, during your absences?'

'Yes, Miss Crowley. I had made it my mission long ago to help stamp out Dark wizards such as Grindelwald. The time was right for me to finish the job.'

'And how did you do it? I don't want to be impertinent for asking, Professor, but we are all very curious.'

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at her. 'Curiosity is natural,' he agreed. 'But the only thing I can tell you about Grindelwald is that he overstretched himself. He tried too much, all at once. He took certain…measures to try to ensure that he could never be defeated. It made him arrogant, and that was his downfall.'

_Grindelwald made a Horcrux,_ Honora suddenly realised. _That's what he's talking about. And Dumbledore must have destroyed the Horcrux, along with Grindelwald's body-bound soul._

'You're right, Miss Crowley,' Dumbledore interrupted her thoughts.

Honora realised with a swoop of dismay that he had used Legilimency on her while she was distracted. Damn. Unable to deny her knowledge, Honora looked Dumbledore straight in the eyes. 'I guessed, anyway.'

'I take it you have discovered what Horcruxes are since our last conversation about them.'

Honora nodded. Of course, she had known about Horcruxes long before then, but what Dumbledore did not know would not hurt him.

'And what are your thoughts, Miss Crowley?' Dumbledore pressed his fingers together, looking at her with interest.

'I think they're a stupid idea,' Honora blurted. It made Dumbledore chuckle.

'Stupid! Yes, yes, they are a rather stupid thing to do. You see, when the soul is split like that, housed in an object, the two pieces are rather independent of each other. One can be destroyed without the other one knowing about it. It is a weakness, as well as being a horrendous method of trying to avoid death.'

Honora bobbed her head in agreement. 'Well, there are nicer ways of going about immortality, anyway.'

'You've been speaking with our Head Boy, Mr. Riddle.' It was a statement, not a question.

With a blush, Honora looked down. Oh, yes, she had been speaking with him. 'Don't worry, sir. I don't think _he's_ made any Horcruxes.'

'Are you in a position to know if he has?' Dumbledore peered closely at Honora. She felt that under his gaze it was useless to even attempt to hide the nature of her relationship with Tom.

'Yes I am, sir,' she answered. She waited for Dumbledore to lecture her on propriety of Head Boy-Head Girl relations and the breaking of school rules.

Instead, he just smiled benevolently. 'Good. I have always thought that Mr. Riddle could benefit from a little feminine love and guidance.' Dumbledore held a knowing look in his eye. 'Well, Miss Crowley, I'm afraid I must catch up on grading this large stack of essays.' He waved his hand at a pile of parchment six feet high, teetering behind him. 'But please, take a lemon drop on your way out.'

'Thank you, Professor,' Honora grinned somewhat sheepishly as she took a sweet. 'Bye.'

In early May, every Hogwarts house (except Slytherin) hosted huge common room parties for the Muggle-born students. On May 8, the Muggle war in Europe had officially ended with the unconditional surrender of Germany. The V-E Day party in Ravenclaw Tower was a boisterous affair; even Kay St John cut loose and let Ash dance her around the room.

Sipping a butterbeer with Damaris, Honora commented that it was a good thing for Dumbledore.

'I know. Ever since he defeated Grindelwald, this has been in the cards. Oh, look at Kay and Willow!'

The two girls, both of whom had family in the British Army, were now using their wands to conduct the members of the Ravenclaw Music Club into a warbled version of 'God Save the King.' Honora laughed and joined in the singing, making Ash hit her good-naturedly with a pillow. 'Please, don't ever sing in public,' he pleaded with hands together.

Damaris turned to Honora more seriously. 'Graduation is in a month and a half,' she said. 'What are you doing then?'

'Well, I have an interview with Gringotts on the first of July,' Honora said. She had gotten a letter from them the week before. 'If that goes well, I'll go into Curse-breaker training.'

'Golly,' Damaris replied. 'That's a pretty extreme thing to do, I mean, it's so dangerous!'

'I laugh in the face of danger!'

'Clearly. After all, you're going with Tom Riddle. You have to admit there's something creepy about him.'

'Damaris!' Honora gaped at her friend. 'I'm not going out with Tom!'

'And you call him Tom now, instead of Riddle,' Damaris persisted. 'Please. I'm not a Ravenclaw for being stupid and unobservant.'

Honora rolled her eyes. 'Okay. Fine. We are…slightly more than friends. But nothing is official and I don't want you telling anyone!'

'Kay knows.'

'Oh. Well, other than her.'

'And Lawrence.'

'Damaris!'

'What? He's my fiancé. I tell him everything. Besides, it's nothing to be ashamed of. To tell the truth, I've suspected for awhile that you had an interest in Tom Riddle.'

_Yeah, an interest in killing Tom Riddle_, Honora thought. She fixed Damaris with a stern glare. 'No one else, okay? Tom is…and I am…well, let's just say it's kind of a weird relationship. I doubt his Slytherin hangers-on would approve, and I don't want to push him away.'

'Don't worry. It would not be the first time, or the last, that the Head Boy and Head Girl ended up together.'

'Really? Who else?'

'Oh, four years ago, both Heads were Gryffindors and they ended up married the next year,' Damaris said.

'Huh,' Honora said. 'Interesting. But then, those were Gryffindors, not a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw.'

'That's what you know!' Damaris's eyes glittered with gossip. 'There is an old, old rumour that Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin were lovers.'

'No!' Honora's eyes lit up. She loved stories like that. 'And what happened?'

Damaris licked her lips. 'Well, as you know, the four founders of Hogwarts were irrevocably removed from Slytherin, when he would not relent on his position on Muggle-borns in the school. Ravenclaw tried to talk sense into him, desperate to remain with her lover, but Slytherin left forever after a huge row with Godric Gryffindor. They had been best friends, you know.'

'That must be why Gryffindor House and Slytherin House hate each other so much.'

'And Ravenclaw and Slytherin are more similar than many would admit,' added Damaris. 'Long-lost lovers, never reunited. It's such a sad tale.'

'But is it true?'

Damaris shrugged. 'Probably. These stories don't come from nowhere, you know.'

'Yeah,' Honora said. 'They all must have been very interesting people.'

One night, as she lay stretched out on her bed in her room, moonlight streaming over her, Honora finally did some thinking. She knew that as the end of the year approached, and the end of her time at Hogwarts, she had a decision to make. The reckoning had been put off; Honora had been easily distracted by other matters. In her heart she did not want to confront one certain thing: she had been sent back in time to destroy Tom Riddle before he became Lord Voldemort, and she had not done it.

Her feelings were so mixed up. Somewhere in her head the person of Tom Riddle ceased to be Lord Voldemort, yet logically she knew they were the same person. He had probably even made up the name for himself already.

Yet fate had stepped in, Honora had been thrown together with Tom and irreconcilable things had happened. She started caring about him, started being his friend, and then she had started loving him. Honora wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt; she wanted to be _with_ him.

_Who am I to make that decision?_ her head scolded her. _I'm only eighteen. I think I know Tom Riddle; what if I don't? THIS IS MY LAST CHANCE_. Honora knew that the people of Polaris and the centaurs of Centurion, those who had sent her here, would be horrified that she was considering letting Tom Riddle graduate from Hogwarts alive. Once the school year was over, Tom could disappear, only to show up decades later as Lord Voldemort. She may be in love with Tom, but she loved her grandmother first. It was Honora's duty to do the right thing by her family.

She thought about her grandmother, Eleanor Weasley. _If you had fallen in love with him, Grandmother, what would you do?_ No voice in her head replied to the query.

Sighing as she burrowed into her pillows, Honora could not get to sleep as she turned the problem over. Sometime during the night, she decided she could only afford to give Tom Riddle one more chance. She had to find out his intentions; how good or evil he was going to turn out to be. If he passed the test, then she would tell him the truth about herself, her upbringing in Polaris, the events of 2112, the whole lot, and hope that he still wanted her.

And…if Tom failed her test, then she would kill him. If that put her in Azkaban for the rest of her life, then it was too bad. It was time for Honora Crowley to step up to her responsibility.

The next day in during her Charms class, Honora sat with Damaris, gossiping and not really paying attention. It was a review session ofold material, NEWT-level charms that Honora had long ago learned, and most of the class engaged in their own conversations. Mid-way through the lecture hour, a note fluttered its way across the room and landed on Honora's desk. Avoiding Damaris's look of avid curiosity, she opened it and smiled, familiar warmth spreading through her.

_Be in your room at eight o'clock after dinner._

The note was unsigned, but she knew it was from Tom. With a glance across the classroom, she met his eye and nodded. _How is he going to sneak into my room?_ she wondered, but then remembered that he was Tom Riddle, and he did whatever he wanted.

Her heart was light and happy when Honora skipped from dinner in the Great Hall at ten minutes to eight. Tom had not been present at the Slytherin table, and she wondered what kind of sweet surprise he might have prepared. She stopped in the girls' loo to set her hair in the right place, and pinched her cheeks to give them a nice flush.

With a hopeful smile on her face, Honora bid goodnight to her friends in the Ravenclaw common room, crept up her stairs, and opened the heavy wooden door to her room. She slipped inside, closed the door behind her, and with sparkling eyes beheld Tom Riddle, lounged casually across her bed.

When she saw what he was holding, the laughter died in her throat and the blood drained from her face.

It was her gold family locket, and he flipped it effortlessly between his long white fingers, his dark eyes boring into her.

_Oh God_. Honora could not move for fear, and all of a sudden she _knew_ that he knew everything about her true history. It was the worst possible thing that could have happened, at the worst possible time, and she could not imagine how Tom had gotten hold of the locket.

'I believe I have something of yours,' he said flatly.

Honora gulped. 'Tom, I can explain—'

'I think you had better.'

'How did you find it?' She had to know.

'Your little trinket was recently brought to my attention by a friend. Seems he has a bit of a yen for you, and had been holding on to it since last year, but was unable to open it due to an old blood magic that kept it closed. Of course, such enchantments are no match for me.' Tom's voice was calm, but Honora thought there was a higher note of upset in there somewhere.

_Lestrange_, Honora realised. She had run into him on her way to the Astronomy Tower to look for her locket, at the end of last year. He had acted so peculiar, and now she understood why. _Oh, of all people to find it!_

Slowly, Honora walked toward her bed, her face a mask of sorrow and contrition, desperate tears building behind her eyes. 'Tom, listen to me. There's something you need to understand, and I would have told you, but there was just never the right moment, and…' she trailed off. Of course Tom would not trust her now. She had been keeping a vast secret from him.

'Sit,' he ordered, patting a place next to him on the bed. 'I await your explanation with bated breath.'

Honora nearly rolled her eyes. He was not going to make this easy. She sat down, looking into his eyes. Best to get it over with, then.

'I'm from the future,' she said, realising how absurd it sounded.

Tom merely looked at her.

'I—I was born in a place called Polaris, in the year 2095. An island. I don't even know where it was, exactly…I lived there until I turned seventeen, when I was sent back here. That's all.'

'That does not explain anything,' Tom said, impatiently. He sat up, staring at her. 'I'm afraid I'll need to go deeper.'

'What?' Honora's eyes widened. Suddenly there he was, trying to get inside her head again, and automatically she put up her Occlumency defences.

'Honora,' Tom said, grasping her neck with his hand.

She whimpered. 'No…please…' Perhaps she was distracted, unprepared, or too distraught, but suddenly Occlumency seemed impossible. Tom's mind was strong, too strong, she could not resist it any more, she wanted to give up in her helplessness…He pressed in on all sides now, she could feel him delve deeper, harder, and with a sigh she felt him break through her last barrier. She had no choice but to surrender to him.

Keeping eye contact the whole way, Tom and Honora laid down side by side, his hand supporting her head.

Honora was terrified. Her mind was bare to him, and he was inside her, probing and sorting through her thoughts and memories. One very important thing floated to the surface, and as she gazed into his indigo eyes she knew that he was seeing and hearing it, too. They lay there, unblinking at each other, in eerie silence, as Honora's memory went back to Polaris…

_Honora was fourteen years old, sitting cross-legged up against a rough stone wall, wearing the drab uniform brown robes of the Shadow Kingdoms. Finally, her grandmother was telling her the details of their true situation, the grim reality of life in Polaris, those outside truths from which she had been sheltered her entire life._

'_Lord Voldemort is the ruler of the world, and has been since the end of the Last War,' Eleanor said. 'We all know that. But he is so much more, too. He's not even human anymore…He instils terror everywhere, using the dark creatures, and the Muggles exist in a sort of dream-nightmare world, unreal and illusory…'_

'_The Dark pure-blood families are his enforcers…'_

'_I must tell you, Honora, that there are only eight Shadow Kingdoms left. Our only chance at survival is a rebellion, but there are not enough resources, there is no one left…'_

'_He won his war against the wizarding world in the year 2001…'_

'_The Death Eaters rampaged through Europe…'_

'_You can't go above-ground. It's not safe…'_

'_Everyone to the dungeons! This is a drill, this is a drill, this is a drill…'_

'_We will never give in to Lord Voldemort!...'_

'_Stay inside! The Dark forces will find you otherwise, don't you see, they will torture you until you break and they will kill you…'_

_Honora looked around, shivering, drawing her furs in closer to her. The iron-grey sea crashed upon sharp rocks, unfriendly and snarling. The sky was full of swirling dark clouds, moving fast, streaks of putrid green lighting them from within, a remnant of Dark magic done somewhere, sometime…Several guards walked about on the rocks, frost-bitten and shivering, their wands ever-vigilant. If this was what the outside looked like, Honora preferred to stay in the caves. _'_Mr. Poundstone, what happens if the Death Eaters find us?...'_

'_Honora, little one, I know you don't understand, but your parents won't be coming back…'_

'_Our world is dying…'_

And then, the fair lady centaur, Morrigan…

'_This is a first, this alliance between humans and centaurs…it has become that desperate, where we must alter the continuum of time itself…I never thought it would come to this…'_

And then, Julius Talbot, speaking to her just before the alignment…

'_Tom Riddle is evil, and dangerous. He _is_ Lord Voldemort, and don't forget it. I know it will be difficult on you personally, but you must have the strength to see it through. You must kill Riddle before he can become Lord Voldemort, before he gains power…you are our only hope…'_

And then many images at once, as Honora's mind was plundered, one right after the other: huddling in the caves, frightened, crashes from above, rock falling on heads, stepping into the frightful humming radiance of a crack in time…

Suddenly Tom was gone, out of her mind, leaving it floating, light and numb. Honora gasped and shuddered, closing her eyes tightly, finally free of his overpowering presence. Tears streamed down her cheeks as he withdrew his hand from around her neck, letting her head fall backwards.

The headache began several minutes later, a dull throbbing in the wake of the invasion. Honora opened her eyes, and even the candlelight was impossibly bright to her. As she shook slightly, trying to marshal her inner strength for recovery, she saw Tom's sitting silhouette, gazing down at her. There was a strange medley of expression on his face. Confusion, hurt, anger, disbelief, shock, and…did she imagine it? Sorrow.

Tom licked his lips, furrowed his brow. 'All this, for what? So you could get closer to me? So you could _destroy_ me, Honora?'

'At first,' Honora's breath hitched. 'But I just couldn't…maybe I'm weak. I don't know. But somewhere along the line it changed, and now, God help me, I care for you.'

'And you knew all along, that this—' he gestured at the air with his hand, '—this is what I was going to become? You knew the name I had created for myself, Lord Voldemort?'

Honora nodded, still feeling helpless on her back as she looked up at him. 'I'm so sorry, Tom. I never meant for you to find out this way. I was going to tell you, but first I had to be sure.'

'Sure of what?'

'That…maybe you had changed.' With a concerted effort at strength, Honora sat up, helping herself up with her elbows. 'And I know you now. You're not evil, ambition isn't wrong, and you have me, you know.'

Tom's dark gaze was unrelenting, and Honora watched as he slowly worked his features into a mask, betraying no more emotion. He was frightening, and she was not sure if he wanted to kill her or kiss her. Or both.

She decided to try again. 'All right, now you know my secret. You know my secret, and I know yours. There's nothing but truth between us anymore, Tom. I promise. And you are the _only_ one who knows where I come from. I haven't told my friends, or anyone else. Certainly not Dumbledore, or Dippet. It's your knowledge, so do with it what you want.'

'I trusted you. And you lied to me.' His voice was utterly cold, laced with hurt.

The accusation and its truth ripped through Honora, filling her eyes with tears again, a lump forming in her throat. 'Oh, Tom! Don't you see? I couldn't say anything, even if I'd wanted to! Even though I _did _want to! I'm so sorry. I wish it wasn't like this, I wish it was normal. But you must believe me: I want to help you. The future you saw in my head does not have to be the real future, because we can change it.' Honora sounded unconvincing, even to herself. She could not tell whether it was enough of an apology for Tom. Now she was just grasping for him, feeling him slip out of her reach.

She stared down at the brocade pattern on her bedcover, blinking back the tears, and a terrible question entered her mind. _What if I'm the one who drove him to become Lord Voldemort? What if I was always supposed to come back in time, and anger him so much, and show him that he would be successful if he turned to evil? _The thought was too horrible to contemplate, its consequences too ghastly. Honora could not, _would_ not believe it.

Raising her eyes to Tom once more, she saw that he too was studying the pattern on the bedspread, apparently reeling from the implications of what he had just learned. Honora still wanted him to have one more chance at redemption; she could not help it. He may have had a real insane streak, but there was goodness and caring in him, too. Tom Riddle was still human, and Honora wanted to believe in him.

Abruptly, Tom got up from the bed, leaving the gold locket. 'I need to go,' he muttered. 'I—I need to go.'

Honora reached out and grasped his arm. 'Tom.'

He turned back to her, gazing over her tear-stained face. 'What?' he whispered.

'If you can forgive me…I just want you to know that I've already forgiven you. For everything you did in my time…well, it wasn't even _you_, really. That world is lost and gone. Whatever you decide to do now, I support you, I'm behind you.' Honora took a deep, shuddering breath. 'Tom, I have faith in you, even if no one else ever has.'

He flinched as though she had struck him. Then he ripped his arm out of her hold and walked out the door, closing it softly behind him.

Honora had just enough foresight to cast a Silencing charm on the door, then burst into loud, racking sobs, unable to contain it any longer. She cried and cried, clenching her pillow in her hands, curled up in a half-ball, wishing she could die.

This was not what she had planned for, and it was the last way she wanted Tom to find out about her past, and his future. It had all gone so wrong, and she felt extremely guilty for letting it go on so. She could not blame Tom Riddle if he never forgave her; she had lied to him repeatedly, made up things, been sent to _kill_ him, for heaven's sake, and had deceived him all the while. Her web had caught up with her, and now she was losing the only man she could ever love.

'This is so wrong,' she sobbed hoarsely to herself. 'So wrong…' She cried for another two hours, until she exhausted herself of tears and feeling.

* * *

**A/N:** Please review! For those of you are interested in psychology, I've put a more detailed analysis of this chapter up on my profile. It mainly covers Tom's psychopathology, and what the revelations in this chapter might mean, so take a look! 


	23. Unmasked

**Author's Notes:** My lovely reviewers, thank you! To _forceuser1456, Maelys, blueforest, Wren, moonlights desire, The Enchanted Teakettle, All-American Vampire, Autumn Faery, larken27, twighunter, Firithnovwen, LavenderBrown77, LovinLovegood1, Nimbus B, Hope of Freedom, KrazieChickadee, Kiki, Aarzu,_ thanks so much for your reviews.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

* * *

Recap of Chapter 22:

_This was not what she had planned for, and it was the last way she wanted Tom to find out about her past, and his future. It had all gone so wrong, and she felt extremely guilty for letting it go on so. She could not blame Tom Riddle if he never forgave her; she had lied to him repeatedly, made up things, been sent to kill him, for heaven's sake, and had deceived him all the while. Her web had caught up with her, and now she was losing the only man she could ever love._

'_This is so twisted,' she sobbed hoarsely to herself. 'So wrong…' She cried for another two hours, at least, until she exhausted herself of tears and feeling.

* * *

_

**Chapter 23**

**Unmasked**

Honora's rational mind took over, after she cried out her emotions and got them out of the way. The truth was out now, the equation reduced to simplicity. There were only two options left: Tom would forgive Honora, and change his evil path. Or, he would take his old road, and Honora would have to kill him. This last thought still caused a wrench of pain inside her, but she knew it was her own fault. _I shouldn't have started caring,_ she thought. _That was a stupid thing to do, Crowley._

Now, she would wait for Tom Riddle to show his true colours. She would accept him or kill him, one or the other. Black and white.

She withdrew from her group of friends, and spent a large amount of time in the library, with the appearance of studying for her NEWTs. Most often she would sit at a table and stare down into her open Transfiguration book, the words a blur, her mind turning over other things. Damaris seemed to sense that Honora and Tom had quarrelled, and kept leaving Chocolate Frogs for Honora to find. It cheered her a little bit, but not much. The gossip-prone Ravenclaws also noticed that their Head Boy and Head Girl no longer sat together in class, and even Willow stopped mentioning Tom and his good looks (at least when Honora was present). Honora only ever saw Tom in the Great Hall, or in passing, or across the room in classes, and he studiously avoided meeting her eye.

For her part, she was miserable. No one knew how much, for Honora kept smiling, and going about her duties, and doing her homework, but inside she was wretched. All she wanted was for Tom to notice her pain and make it all better. Normally she would have built up some gumption, and talked to Tom herself, but the truth was that she was still afraid of him. She was not sure what he was going to do; he was already unstable and the entire 'girlfriend is a time-traveller' thing may have pushed him over the edge.

Exactly two weeks after their falling-out, Honora noticed that she and Tom were scheduled for a night patrol. She groaned inwardly. It felt too soon to see him, speak to him, be near him. And five hours of walking the corridors! Honora was dreading it.

However, when she walked into their Head common room at ten o'clock in the evening, Tom was nowhere to be found. Honora waited for half an hour, and decided he was not going to show. _Well, someone has to do this patrol_. Grabbing her wand, she left the common room and decided to walk the rounds all by herself.

The castle was entirely deserted this late at night. Honora walked down empty hallways, past echoing classrooms, occasionally pulling open broom closets or pushing past tapestries to look for students. The murky black gloom of the corridors pressed in around her, as she walked alone with her thoughts. There were no distractions now, no books to keep her mind off of Tom Riddle, no classes or friends at this late hour.

She shivered. It could have been her imagination, but Hogwarts seemed darker than usual this night. Her illuminated wand did not do enough to dispel the shadows. With a sigh, Honora headed down toward the dungeons. It was a rabbit-warren of stone corridors, disused classrooms, old offices, and storage spaces. She knew her way to the Slytherin dungeons, but that was the extent of her geography. Every other time she had been down here, Tom had been with her to show the way.

_Tom_. An annoying little tear glittered in her left eye, and she wiped it away fiercely.

As she wandered deeper down into the dungeons, Honora thought she should leave a trail of bread-crumbs, just to find her way back. Then she scoffed at herself; she was Head Girl! There was no way she could become lost in her own school. It was ridiculous.

If only she did not have that prickly feeling on the back of her neck.

She had peeked her head into a grimy old classroom when she first heard the noise. A footfall, somewhere behind her. Honora whirled back, her wand in front of her, but saw only darkness. Had it merely been the old stones of the castle, settling? A draft of wind, whistling through? Or perhaps it had been a rodent, a ghost, or any other mundane source of noise. However, Honora's intuition insisted that she was not alone.

'_Nox,_' she whispered, extinguishing her light. If someone was following her, she did not want them to find her that easily.

Slowly she crept back the way she came, her footsteps echoing into the shadows, sounding terribly loud. Her breath came fast; she was afraid she was about to run into some dungeon-dwelling monster. A wild thought raced through her head that the huge Acromantula from the Forbidden Forest had somehow entered the castle and was hunting her. A panicky wave of fear rose up, only to be shoved back into submission by Honora's rational mind.

Then, she discovered it was something much uglier than an Acromantula.

'_Lumos,_' said a voice, not two feet in front of Honora. The light blinded, and Honora put her hand up and squinted. It was Olive Hornby, standing in front of her.

Honora felt a surge of exasperation. 'Hornby, what are you doing?' she sighed, her irritation clear.

Olive just smiled malevolently. 'I'm here to teach you a lesson.'

'Oh, really?' Honora sneered. 'Well, it's thirty minutes past midnight and you're out of bed. Twenty points from Slytherin.'

Olive giggled. 'Boys!' she said.

Out of the silent gloom, several cloaked figures materialised, wearing skull half-masks that concealed their faces. They stood in grave, sinister silence, and Olive brought out her own mask to cover her face.

_Death Eaters_, Honora realised in a cold wash of horrified panic. The paralysing fear trickled down her body, and she was unable to move, confronted with the worst nightmare of her childhood. It was no longer a game, no longer an abstract. It was real, right in front of her. Her mind raced with terror, leaping to new conclusions of doom with every passing second. With a shock of betrayal, she thought that Tom himself must have sent them after her. _So this is it,_ she thought. _It's over. I've lost, and Lord Voldemort has won. He's sent his Death Eaters after me, and now I'm dead_.

With a jab of self-disgust, she also realised how much she had underestimated Olive Hornby as a rival.

The thought brought her back to reality. She pushed her panic aside and reminded herself that these were Hogwarts students, not full-blown Death Eaters, no matter what they looked like. And she was Head Girl. With her vision clear, Honora recognised Raoul Lestrange's swarthy complexion, Ian Avery's hooked nose, Antonin Dolohov's long face, Cornelius Nott's tangle of brown hair sticking up from his mask. _They're just boys_, she told herself firmly. _Silly, stupid boys. And Olive Hornby, who is not nearly as pretty as you are_.

Honora decided to play it cool. 'Nice masks,' she said, putting scorn into her voice. 'Now all of you, get to bed before you find yourselves expelled right before graduation.'

Lestrange stepped forward, grinning. His large teeth matched those on the skull mask, making him more intimidating then he should rightfully have been. 'Not so fast, Crowley. You see, you're not meant to live through this night.'

Another wave of apprehension. Honora swatted it away in her mind, and brought out her wand. 'Stop talking nonsense, Lestrange, before I curse you into next week!'

'Trying to be brave?' spoke up Avery. 'You're not a Gryffindor, so don't act like one.'

Honora was having an increasingly difficult time managing her fear. They may have been schoolchildren, but the gang of Slytherins was acting very confident. 'I'm Head Girl, and don't you forget it. Now tell me the meaning of all this!' she demanded.

'_Expelliarmus!_' one of the Death Eaters in the back shouted, catching Honora off guard. With a shriek of dismay, her wand was snatched out of her hand, and she fell backwards, hitting the stone floor with a hard and painful thud. The attack seemed to galvanise the others, and the group of masked Slytherins surrounded Honora, picking her up as she struggled, pinning her arms harshly behind her.

'Let me go!' Honora shouted, kicking and lunging at her captors.

They merely laughed and told her to shut up, as though it were some school prank. They took her into an abandoned room containing only a dusty table, some chairs, and several stacks of old textbooks. Depositing Honora on the floor in front of the table, the Death Eaters surrounded her in a circle, arms crossed.

Desperate to retain some dignity, Honora scrambled up and held herself as tall as she could. 'That's enough,' she snapped. 'One of you, tell me what your intentions are, right this instant.'

'Hornby, Rosier, go stand watch. And cast a Silencing charm on the door,' Antonin Dolohov ordered, ignoring Honora. The two left, and the wooden door slammed closed behind them. Now only seven Slytherins remained in the room, all boys.

'Where's Tom?' Honora finally asked, fearful of the answer.

'_Lord Voldemort_ was not able to make it to our little practise session,' Lestrange stepped forward. He moved up to Honora, his black eyes gazing at her with fanatic glee. When she heard him use the name Lord Voldemort, Honora winced, grasping that they really meant to kill her. Otherwise, they would not risk using the name of their leader so openly.

Lestrange brought his face even closer, and with disgusting swiftness he pulled Honora's hair back away from her face. With a snarl, he licked her, his tongue, coarse and dry, scraping its way up her cheek. Honora pushed down a nauseating sickness, her face growing paler by the minute.

'Not so friendly, are we?' Lestrange rasped in her ear. 'Well, come on, boys, let's teach her to be nice.'

A moan of terror slipped from Honora's lips. She cursed herself immediately for showing weakness…but this was the stuff of every nightmare she had ever had. Worse still was the knowledge that she had failed utterly; she would be killed this night and Lord Voldemort would rise as powerful as ever.

'What should we use first?' Avery tittered nervously. 'Cruciatus? Imperius?'

'I don't know, stupid,' said Cornelius Nott. 'It was Dolohov's job to plan out the torture.'

Lestrange, still pressing himself up against Honora, turned slightly. 'It's obvious what she's afraid of,' he said with a dry-throated laugh. His hand grasped her hair again. 'Let's have a little fun with her, before we kill her.'

'We're supposed to practise _torture_ curses,' Dolohov said, pulling on Lestrange's robes, tugging him back a little bit. 'I say we try the Cruciatus curse, until she begs to die.' Dolohov brought out his wand.

At that moment, when she saw Dolohov's cold eyes, his wand tightly gripped in his fingers, the urge to _do something _hit Honora with blinding force. She screamed. She yelled louder then she ever had before, with all her might, praying that someone, anyone, might hear her. She screamed and screamed, until Lestrange shot a _Silencio_ at her, abruptly cutting off the shrieking sound, leaving Honora's face eerily contorted in a silent plea for help.

With a flourish of his wand, Dolohov yelled '_Crucio_!' and the jet of light shot out to strike Honora down.

Clenches of pain ran through her veins, but it was not as bad as Honora had expected. She realised that Dolohov had not gotten the curse quite right and it was weak. She gritted her teeth and bore it as well as she could, unable to make another sound.

Then, the door opened, and Tom Riddle stepped in.

His eyes took in the group of his Slytherin friends, Dolohov's face screwed up in concentration, Honora on the floor in the throes of a weak Cruciatus curse.

Honora looked up at Tom from the floor, the pain of his betrayal far worse than Dolohov's puny attempts at torture. Tom gazed back down at her for a moment, his jaw clenched, and he did something she did not expect. He whipped out his wand, and yelled '_Expelliarmus!_' at Dolohov.

Abruptly, the waves of pain subsided for Honora, and she sat up, staring. Looking at Tom's face, she wondered if this entire meeting was a complete surprise to him. He was wearing his school robes, no mask, no black cloak. Behind him, Honora could make out someone's feet, toes up as if lying on the floor. _Hornby or Rosier_, she figured.

'What's all this?' Tom asked, addressing the Death Eaters. His voice was like ice and Honora knew he was furious.

Lestrange stepped forward. 'We could tell how much trouble she was for you,' he said, gesturing at Honora who had now stumbled up into a standing position. 'So we thought, as a gift, for you, our Lord,' he bowed slightly, 'her dead body, after we had practised our techniques on her.'

'Yeah, after Dolohov was finished, Lestrange was going to really show her a good time,' Avery laughed nervously. 'You know his specialty.'

'Indeed I do,' Tom said, regarding Lestrange with a critical eye. 'As a gift for me, you said?'

The Death Eaters all nodded eagerly.

'Well, you've hardly given her a fair shot, have you? Where's the fun in that?' Tom nodded at them. 'Give her her wand back.'

'But, my Lord Voldemort…'

'Give it to her!' Tom commanded.

Honora accepted her wand, full of questions. What was going on? Tom had stopped the torture, but now he was acting like it was a good thing. Her confusion overruled her fear and she turned her face toward Tom. 'What is this about?' she asked, her voice small.

Tom just looked at her inscrutably.

With a flash of sudden rage, Honora was sick and tired of these Slytherins and their twisted games. Lestrange had groped her, accosted her, _licked_ her for heaven's sake, and Dolohov had used the Cruciatus Curse on her. _I'll show them unforgivable_, she growled in her mind.

Suddenly she knew what she had to do.

With a wave of her wand, Honora created a prolonged Stunning spell that curved through the air in a crackling arc of red light, knocking over the Death Eaters one right after the other. If she had not been in danger, she would have found the effect funny. Having sprung herself into positive action, Honora felt her instincts kick in and she waved her wand like a madwoman, binding Dolohov in ropes, transfiguring Nott into a cactus, giving Avery a bad case of boils. 'And you!' she hissed, as Lestrange struggled to get up from the Stunning spell. He was the last one unaffected, except for Tom Riddle who stood watching, an odd look of approval on his face.

Honora shook her head at Lestrange, and twirled her wand in her fingers. 'What you would have done…' she said, her anger lowering her voice an octave. She whipped around to face Tom. 'And you would have let him!' she shrieked. '_Petrificus Totalus!_'

The spell shot towards Tom, an expression of total protest and shock frozen on his face as he fell, stiff as a board, up against the wall. Unable to move, his gaze stayed upright, taking in the scene.

Honora turned back to Lestrange, who drew his face into a sneer beneath his skull mask. 'You're just a stupid girl,' he mocked. 'You think some fancy wand-work can match the Death Eaters?'

'Fancy wand-work?' Honora was angrier then she had ever been in her life. This little slime of human being had the gall to touch her, and make fun of her? Worse still, Lestrange had stolen her precious locket; he was the very reason she and Tom had quarrelled! Red, murderous rage coursed through her blood at the thought. With fatal calm, she moved around him.

Then, with a gentle swish of her wand, Honora murmured, '_Imperio_.'

Lestrange's face grew slack, his eyes blank, shoulders slumped. Honora felt an addictive burst of power; in that moment she had _total control_ over another human being, control over someone who had hurt her tremendously. She laughed giddily, her pale eyes glinting with domination.

From the corner, Tom had pushed off the _Petrificus_, and brandished his wand. 'Honora!' he whispered.

She turned impatiently to him, and halted when she saw his face.

Tom's brow was creased in worry, although a funny glint lurked in his eyes that might have been pride. 'What are you doing?' he said hoarsely. 'That's an Unforgivable, you could be put in Azkaban!'

'Oh, you're one to talk!' Honora laughed unpleasantly. 'You saw what they did!'

'I didn't know what they were up to! I swear on Merlin's grave!' Tom crossed the room and clasped Honora's free hand. 'When you weren't in our common room, or anywhere else, I went looking for you.' Tom looked down at Dolohov, bound from head to toe in coarse ropes, and anger flickered across Tom's face. 'Just let Lestrange go. I'll take care of it.'

'How can I trust you?' Honora was hysterical, half-mad. 'You, of all people, know what Death Eaters mean to me. _You!_ Lord Voldemort!' Tears spilled out of her eyes, and she turned back to Lestrange. She knew she had to take the high road here; she had to keep her inner light shining, even now. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes, pushing down her wild desire for power, to cause hurt. _Find the good, and don't let go_.

Honora opened her eyes, filled with deep clarity once more. 'Apologise to me,' she instructed to Lestrange. 'Say you're sorry for what you have done.'

'I'm sorry,' Lestrange said obediently. 'I apologise. I'm very sorry.'

'_Finite_,' Honora released the Imperius Curse. 'And don't ever tangle with me again.'

Lestrange's eyes were bugged out of his head that she had used an Unforgivable with such power. He nodded, frantically. 'I am sorry,' he repeated, of his own volition.

Tom still gripped Honora's hand tightly. 'Please, just let me take care of them,' he pleaded, in a low voice that the others could not hear. 'I need to work some things out, but…' he moved his head, so his breath tickled her ear, 'I forgive you, Honora.'

She looked up at him sharply. 'What?'

'I said, I forgive you. I see what happened, and it's not your fault. In fact, you're everything I've been—' he cut himself off, with a shake of the head. 'I'll find you, soon, and we'll talk.'

Having been through an emotional and physical wringer, Honora could only nod her head. Was he lying to her? She did not know what Tom was planning, but at that moment all she wanted was to be out of that dusty little room.

Tom brought out his wand yet again, and released his Slytherins from their various curses and hexes. Then he waved his wand over them. _'Obliviate!_' he shouted. Bright white flashes of light issued forth, giving each Death Eater a dazed look. 'Well, what are you all waiting for?' Tom said. 'Honora's seen your masks, now, and she thinks they're very nice. Now go back to bed,' he commanded, waving his hand.

The Slytherins looked at each other, and shrugged, filing out of the room.

'I don't want them telling anyone you've been using Unforgivables,' Tom said to Honora, with a sardonic twist of his mouth.

'Oh,' she said, 'thanks, I guess.'

'Now,' he brushed his lips across her forehead, 'I'm sorry about tonight. You can rest assured they will never step out of line again.'

'Tom, I need more of a guarantee than that!' Honora protested. 'I'm just so confused, and I don't know what to think!'

Tom looked into her eyes. 'There is something I want to ask you,' he said, 'but not now. You need to go to bed, and I'll find you soon. I promise.'

Unable to sway him into further assurance, Honora let Tom walk her up to the Ravenclaw portrait.

When they arrived, he put his hands on her shoulders, gently. 'I'm so glad you're safe,' he whispered. 'I couldn't bear it otherwise.' Spontaneously, he wrapped her into his arms, pulling her close, his hand stroking her hair in soothing motions. With a tiny shudder, Honora burrowed her face into his chest. She felt like crying again, not from fear or shock, but from relief and gladness that she and Tom were on their way back to normal.

Pulling away slightly, Tom looked down at her with ironic appreciation suddenly written on his face. 'You know, this is the first time in my life I've ever been worried about someone other than myself. I'm not quite sure how to handle it.'

Honora laughed a little. 'Me, too,' she said. 'And I'm glad that you worry about me.' As she rested there in his arms, staring at the dark folds of his school robes in front of her nose, she felt at home at last. 'Tom?' her voice of reason asked.

'Hmm?'

'How did you know to come to that room in the dungeon? It was awfully far away from everything. And they cast an Imperturbable Charm around the walls.'

Silence greeted her query. His breathing did not miss a beat, but his heart did.

'They must have cast it wrong,' he finally said. 'Because I heard you scream. I was on my way to the Slytherin dungeons and I heard you.' He distracted her by petting her head soothingly, softly. 'Get some rest, now,' Tom helped her inside the portrait-hole. 'Goodnight, darling.'

Honora blinked. He had never called her 'darling' before. 'Goodnight,' she whispered back, and leaned over to give him a light, tender kiss on the cheek. The last thing she saw as the door closed was Tom's face, his eyes alight, a tiny but significant smile playing across his lips.


	24. Tom Riddle's Diary

**Author's Notes:** Oh, goodness, I never dreamed I would receive such a response to this story from all of you readers and reviewers! _LovinLovegood1, The Enchanted Teakettle, moonlights desire, Wren, forceuser1456, All-American Vampire, KrazieChickadee, Larken27, GoodQueenA, twighunter, blueforest, ChuckTheGingy, Nimbus B, Firithnovwen, LavenderBrown77, Kiki, Nosilla, Kurleyhawk2, _and _stellaris_, many, many thanks.

For the Americans, a Leaver's Ball is the traditional graduation/end of school dance. I don't know if Hogwarts has one, but I'm pretending they do.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

* * *

Recap of Chapter 23:

'_Get some rest, now,' Tom helped her inside the portrait-hole. 'Goodnight, darling.' _

_Honora blinked. He had never called her 'darling' before. 'Goodnight,' she whispered back, and leaned over to give him a light, tender kiss on the cheek. _

_The last thing she saw as the door closed was Tom's face, his eyes alight, a tiny but significant smile playing across his lips.

* * *

_

**Chapter 24**

**Tom Riddle's Diary**

Back in her Head Girl bedroom, Honora's head swam, and she felt suddenly incapable of taking it all in. She had been followed, trapped, brutally attacked…then Tom Riddle had shown up…then she had taken her revenge.

Oh, yes. Revenge. Honora could not deny for an instant the thrill she had felt, cursing the Death Eaters, the deep welling of power-lust from successfully using the Imperius Curse. On her first try, even! She felt sick at herself, for her own reaction. Sure, she had only asked Lestrange to apologise, but she could have done so much worse. In the warm night-time shadows of her bedroom, Honora was scared of herself. She felt tainted, unclean, guilty, regretful that her first reaction to a life-and-death situation had been to attack. Her most ardent wish was to remove the sour aftertaste of the Unforgivable Curse she had used, wash the violence from her hands. Yet, she could not.

_Just hold on to the light_, she instructed herself, yet again. _Light up your mind, light, light_. She tried to visualise the white core of the universe, the perfect Love she had experienced when she died, briefly, on her way back through time. She could not deny the dark side of her, but she fiercely refused to let it take hold, pushing it back with effort. She was a Weasley, damn it, and she wanted her life to be ruled by love, and happiness. Inspired, she took out her newly-returned gold locket and opened it. Waves of relief went through her, seeing her beloved grandmother's face, smiling up at her…her ancestors, all behind her.

Her situation was not yet resolved, but very soon she would do what she needed to do. If Tom Riddle wanted to stay as Lord Voldemort, she would kill him. She had proved to herself that very night her own capability in using the Unforgivables. It would be difficult, near impossible; but looking at her family tree, for the first time Honora felt confident in her own strength.

And then she remembered that Tom Riddle had forgiven her, and had rescued her from a fate worse than death, no less. They were reconciled.

Honora hugged the knowledge to herself, but a sharp fragment of doubt crept its way in despite her efforts to be optimistic. What if Tom had lied to her? He had acted very strangely that night; he had been unsurprised at the situation, using words like 'darling' that he never had before. What if he had not forgiven her after all? Perhaps it was the end-play of some sort of game, a revenge, or even her own recruitment to the Dark side. Maybe he had turned love into hate, trust into manipulation. She had to consider the possibility that Riddle set up the entire thing as a test of her strength. To see if she could be turned.

_I will reserve judgment,_ she thought. _I will wait, and watch, and never let my guard down until I have proof of his love, a reason to trust. Tom Riddle is not out of the woods yet_. Nodding to herself resolutely, Honora felt more prepared than she had ever been. She would wait for him to show his intentions, and when he did, she would be ready. Her eyes were open, her senses alert, and her moral vigour restored. Honora fell asleep easily after that, anticipating the decisions the next days would bring, mentally preparing herself for forgiveness or murder.

She waited two days, two very long days in which the hours and minutes ticked by, leading to their inevitable conclusion. She had to work to keep her anxiety in check in the interim. Then, one evening Tom found Honora outside the Great Hall after dinner. He appeared before her, a set expression on his face, and pulled her by the arm off to the side of the corridor.

'Let's take a walk,' he said, dark eyes full of some mysterious meaning.

Honora simply nodded. Once again, she had absolutely no idea what to expect from him.

They stepped outside the front doors together. The sun was setting, backlighting the scattered clouds with peach and gold. The air was pleasantly warm, the smell of Scottish daffodils floating across the breeze. So romantic, yet Honora never felt quite romantic with Tom Riddle. It was more like an encircling, irresistible darkness; warm and dangerous like a snake sunning itself on a rock.

His fingers intertwined with hers as they headed down toward the lake. Other student couples were drifted about the grass, laughing or talking or snogging. Honora felt removed from them. They were simply young people enjoying an early summer's evening. She and Tom were different creatures altogether.

Honora could feel a certain electricity in the air, glancing up at Tom's face. His fine, sculpted features were composed, but she thought his indigo eyes glittered with some inner secret. She wondered briefly if tonight he was going to try to recruit her to the Death Eaters, ask her to be his Lady Voldemort. The thought made her shiver; with fear or pleasure she could not tell.

Unconsciously Honora gripped her wand under her robes. Her fingers rubbed its smooth wood surface, reassuring and calming her, like a rosary.

Tom remained quiet as they reached the lake and walked along one curving shore away from the castle. The water reflected silver and pink from the sky, lighting up Tom's face from beneath. Each passing moment got heavier, and she wondered if he felt it, too. Her instincts told her this was _it_, after this night she would know what to do about Tom Riddle. Tonight she would stand or die or kill.

They reached a large, flat rock that jutted out slightly over the water. Tom climbed up onto it, holding his hand to Honora in meaningful silence and helping her up. They were around a bend in the shore and the spires of Hogwarts castle were barely visible over the trees. Not another soul was in sight. Tom lowered himself down to sit on the rock, his feet dangling over the edge. Gesturing for Honora to do the same, he gazed across the water for a moment before turning to her.

'I want to ask you something,' he said, voice low and cool.

'Anything,' Honora said, unable to keep her breathlessness hidden.

Tom looked at her intently, his eyes in shadow. 'You are going through the Curse-breaker training, yes?'

Honora nodded in affirmation. 'Yes, well, if I pass the interview, which I might not—'

'You will,' Tom said dismissively. 'And afterwards, you will become a Curse-breaker for Gringotts.'

'Initially…yes.'

'Then I want to ask you something,' he repeated.

'Go ahead, Tom.'

'Will you come with me? When I go to Egypt, to search for the hidden chamber of Trismegistus?'

'I—well, I suppose…' They had talked about this before, but Honora did not want to commit until she knew exactly what Tom meant. She kept waiting for his inner malice to reach out and snatch her, and even now she did not feel safe with him.

'After I leave here, I'm going to travel, and learn, and take the steps to understand the Hermetic principles. To use them. And when I do, I want you with me.' Tom's face held a sudden urgency, a need to hear her say yes.

Honora reached out to place her hand on his cheek. He leaned into her slightly, closing his eyes. It reminded Honora of a small child, trusting himself to a loved one. She felt something inside of her burst open. 'Why do you want to do this, Tom? Is it for immortality, for power?'

His eyes flickered open. 'No,' he breathed, almost unsure of himself. 'It – it's something else.'

'What?'

'I don't want to be some horrible monster to you,' he said. He looked away, his habit of secrecy struggling against honesty. 'I didn't know what to do. When I found out your purpose here, and my own future as -- as Lord Voldemort, it opened up something inside me, I can't even describe it – it was like being forced to look into a mirror. I didn't like what I saw,' he said dully. His left fist clenched and unclenched with nervous energy.

'I had no idea my ambitions could go so far awry. That's not what I want! I thought, what's the point in ruling the world, if I destroyed it in the process? There must be a better way, a cleaner way.' He dragged his eyes over to meet Honora's. 'I can't promise to change my goals, but I will change the way I'm going to do it. I can't be angry with you. You were just doing what you had to, in desperation.

'I'm sorry it took me a few weeks, to get over it, but I know one thing for sure.' He inhaled deeply, torment breaking through to make his breath uneven. 'It doesn't fit together, the piece of me that wants to be Lord Voldemort, and the piece of me that wants to be with you. And you, Honora, are more important to me.'

'I am?' Honora asked. 'Do you mean it? You really feel that way about me?' The potential horror of Lord Voldemort, the monster with a shattered soul of seven pieces, started to fade from her mind. A lump formed in her throat.

Tom opened his mouth, as if to speak, and closed it again. He sat up straighter. His eyes burned now, dark and ferocious. 'I love you, Honora,' he blurted.

Honora's eyes widened. He had admitted it; genuine feeling flooded his features, reassuring in their clarity. There was nothing for her to say, except… 'I love you, too.'

'You do?' Tom's eyebrows knitted together, as though he feared she might be lying to him.

'Of course I do. In spite of myself, really – you have to admit you're a little frightening, Tom – but I do. I love you.' Honora felt tears pricking annoyingly at her eyes. She was starting to feel mushy. 'And I promise I'll be here for you, always.'

Tom exhaled slowly; he had been holding his breath. 'You're the one…' he began. 'You're the reason why – if it weren't for you, I would not have known what the Hermetic mystics were talking about, the power of – of _love_,' he finished his sentence in the manner of some inner fear being overcome. 'Of course, I still want to rule the world,' his mouth quirked into a half-smile, 'but I want to do this the right way. I want to love you. As long as you're with me, it won't be weakness, but strength.'

Honora cracked apart, listening to him, knowing she was the cause of this. Her head lurched with the implications. As long as she was always there to keep Tom Riddle's darkness in check, to show him the light when he lost his way, perhaps it would work after all.

'Together we will do great things, Tom,' Honora said. 'And I'll be by your side, if you want me to be.'

'There's something I want you to have.' Tom reached into his discarded outer robes and pulled out a flat object, presenting it to her.

It was a small black book, with the letters 'T.M. Riddle' printed on it. Honora drew in a sharp breath. It was his _diary_, the thing he would have made into a Horcrux…'What's this?'

'It's my diary,' he explained. 'I want you to have it, because it contains my memories and lately, a lot of my thoughts on my research with the Kybalion, and some other things too.'

Honora narrowed her eyes slightly at him. 'What do you mean, it contains your _memories_?' The fingers of her right hand brushed the handle of her wand slightly, again.

'I charmed it, when I was sixteen, to show memories of significant events. Like a Pensieve. It can't really be interacted with, but I was just experimenting. I –' Tom paused with internal debate, 'I thought about doing something else with it, but I want you to keep it instead.'

Letting out her breath in a whoosh, Honora felt a warm sense of relief trickle over her. So he hadn't made it into a Horcrux, after all. Just a container of memories, like any diary. Slowly she opened the cover and flicked through the pages. They were covered with Tom's tiny, neat handwriting; occasional sketches or diagrams dotted the margins. On a few pages it was like looking inside a wizard's photograph, and Honora understood that those were saved memories.

She felt a hot clutch at her heart when she came across a little sketch in one of the margins of a girl, with light eyes and high cheekbones…a drawing of _her_. It was next to a very interesting passage on using ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs as a primer for uncovering Hermetic messages. Another part of her mind marvelled again at his multiple talents; there was nothing the man could not do, it seemed.

Closing the diary, setting it down, Honora moved closer to Tom. 'Thank you,' she whispered. It was the proof she had needed in her heart. Perhaps Tom Riddle would never love anyone else; perhaps he would still seek power and greatness; perhaps he would always have that turmoil of darkness inside of him. The difference was that now he loved Honora, and whatever he did, she would be there with him.

It was enough. Finally, she could trust him.

Honora felt her own darkness surround her as she closed her eyes, as his lips crashed down onto hers, seeking and finding. She laid back on the rock, Tom pressing down on top of her, pinning her with a hard, urgent need. He turned her head with his long fingers, nipping gently at her earlobe, eliciting a soft moan from Honora's lips. Then he kissed her mouth again, his hands circling her waist.

In retaliation, she ran her fingers up through his hair, her nails skimming softly through its inky blackness.

They went like that until the golden twilight faded to dark, the sky swiftly turning into a sea of stars. A chill descended, but neither Tom nor Honora noticed it. They were wrapped up in each other, worshipping their own selves.

Finally Honora breathed into his ear, 'We should be getting back.'

He agreed, reluctantly helping her up and off the rock. They walked hand in hand back to the castle, bidding goodnight in the front hall.

'Will you come with me to the Leaver's Ball?' Tom asked her.

'Of course,' Honora said. So he wanted to make it official. _Let's just watch the whole school part like the Red Sea for us_.

'Good. Dream well, Honora,' Tom smiled knowingly at her.

'And you,' she replied with a lift of her eyebrow.

Honora clutched Tom's diary to her chest that night as she slept.

Finally free to gossip about her situation, she breathlessly updated Kay and Damaris. 'We're going to the Leaver's Ball together,' she said.

'I knew it! I knew it ever since that dance you two had at the Salvation Ball last year!' Damaris squeaked.

'Oh, you couldn't have!' Kay protested to Damaris. 'Honora hated him until this year, didn't you, Honora?'

'Yes, yes I did.' Honora smiled. 'But that love-hate thing really adds the spice, you know?'

Kay blushed, and Damaris winked.

'So have you kissed him?' Kay asked.

'Obviously,' Honora said.

'Is he good?' Damaris continued the interrogation. 'How far have you gone?'

This time Honora blushed. 'Let's just say I have every reason to be happy.'

Kay gasped at her. 'You haven't – you know –'

'Oh! No, not that,' Honora said. 'But some things you can just tell.' She cleared her throat, embarrassed.

'Well, as you know, Lawrence and I are getting married on the fifteenth of July,' Damaris said. 'And I'm sure everything will be smashing.'

'Smashing what? China? The bed frame?' Honora said. She and Kay snickered.

'Both,' Damaris replied demurely. 'And I'm putting the two of you in blue bridesmaid's dresses.'

'Better than chartreuse, like my cousin Ruth's wedding was,' Kay nodded.

The girls chattered away happily, the last days of Hogwarts rolling by so fast they could not quite comprehend it. Damaris would be getting married straight after graduation, and start having children with Lawrence, while he would be playing Quidditch for the Wimbourne Wasps.

Kay had not decided her post-graduation plans; however, she had mentioned to Honora that she had a business idea for a wizarding travel agency. 'Like the Muggle variety, except for magical holidays,' Kay had explained. Honora thought it sounded like a good idea.

Their NEWT examinations were disposed of with success. Honora was relieved that there were no more 'duelling' practicals for Defence Against the Dark Arts, especially since by now Tom Riddle knew all her tricks, but she suspected he knew a lot of spells she did not.

Then, the Friday night before graduation, the Leaver's Ball was held.

Tom came to collect her an hour earlier than he was supposed to, so Honora had to let him sit in her room and watch her put on perfume and makeup and jewellery. Honora decided that she liked him to watch her. Amusement and possession flashed in his dark eyes, as she flitted around her room getting ready.

Honora's dress was a dramatic midnight black sheath of thin satin. It had wrist-length sleeves and a portrait neckline, but clung to Honora like a second skin. It fish-tailed out at the bottom, creating a small train. For all its coverage the dress seemed immodest. She wore her strand of very innocent white pearls around her neck. Tom came up behind her to help with the clasp, causing Honora to feel a little dizzy with his presence. As usual, he looked unfairly dashing in dress robes.

As the clock tolled eight-fifteen, Tom and Honora swept into the Great Hall. A great hush descended over the students as they walked in. Both in black, proud and powerful and dark in some indefinable way, the Head Boy and Head Girl cut a swathe through the crowd. The students were only silent for a second, however, when the fierce whisper of gossip began. Bits of conversation reached Honora's ears, as she and Tom made their way to greet Headmaster Dippet.

'Are they together?' 'Look at her dress, it's indecent!' 'How can it be indecent, it doesn't show anything, but I know what you mean…' 'I would kill to be Honora Crowley.' 'That Tom Riddle sure knows how to pick them.'

Honora smiled with ruby-stained lips as the crowd parted for them. _Yep, just like the Red Sea_, she thought with satisfaction. She and Tom each shook Dippet's hand, then prepared to lead the first dance as the school Heads.

Behind them were Lawrence and Damaris. Damaris stepped forward, embracing Honora with an excited sound.

'Look at the both of you! You two look disgustingly good together,' Damaris announced. Lawrence approached and put his hand on Damaris's elbow. 'Riddle,' he said to Tom in greeting.

'Carter,' Tom nodded at him.

'And Honora, you look lovely, as usual,' Lawrence said.

'Thanks!' Honora grinned at her friends. The band started a waltz and the centre of the Great Hall cleared. 'I think we have to lead the waltz now,' she said. 'Join us in a minute!'

Tom grabbed her around the waist and led Honora out onto the dance floor, black on black, in a sea of otherwise colourful summer dresses. He held her tightly and ably, manoeuvring her in between the other couples who now started dancing. Honora gazed up into Tom's classically handsome face as they danced, with the strange impression that she was melting under his gaze.

She did not dance with anyone else all night.

'We will be the Immortals, Honora,' Tom whispered down into her ear, his breath tickling her.

It lit a flame inside.

Toward the end of the evening, they drifted outside to the blooming rose garden, its sweet perfume cloying through the air. Honora barely noticed the beauty of the night; she only had eyes for Tom Riddle. They stood on the terrace, looking out over the lake and the grounds at Hogwarts, shadow figures with glimmering eyes. A crescent moon hung suspended above them.

'So, if you're from the future,' Tom began, 'do you know who wins the next Quidditch World Cup? I set a bet with that fifth-year, Alphard Black, that Australia takes it.'

Honora laughed. 'No, I don't know who wins!' She turned slightly to look up into his face. 'Besides, I think that my future, where I come from, has been completely changed from what would have happened. I don't know what's coming any more than you do.'

'I think the future changed a long time ago,' Tom said. 'I'm not the same, for having met you.'

Honora's heart soared at his words, and she leaned in to him closer, afraid her spirits might carry her away. 'Since when?' she asked.

She felt Tom's smile in the darkness. 'That day, in Diagon Alley, last summer. When you dragged me off to have ice cream…and we talked, and it was nothing really. It was everything to me. It was then that I – that I must have fallen in love with you.'

To mask her utter surprise, Honora turned around and, on her tiptoes, she kissed him. 'Well,' she continued, 'I _was_ interested to hear your work on alchemy that day. I could hardly disguise it!'

Tom laughed. 'I know. I was thinking, perhaps after your interview, you might come to visit me, at Flamel's workshop. I know that Nicolas and Perenelle would love to meet you. They like odd people.'

'Hey!' Honora laughed. 'That must explain why you get on with them, then.'

'It must,' Tom smiled.

'You will do great things, Tom Riddle.' She rested her head on his chest.

'No, we will do great things,' Tom corrected. 'For people like us, Honora, there are no limits.'

He took her hand and stared out into the night.

* * *

**A/N:** _Finis, the End, etc. Hope you loved it, as much as I enjoyed writing it all down from that crazy place in my head from which words flow!_

_The sequel to this story is completed and posted: 'Kundalini Rising,' the ongoing tale of Tom Riddle and Honora Crowley._


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